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USA 


A  STRUGGLE  FOR  LIFE,    [See  p«ge  ii].] 


The  Robbers'  Cave 


A  TALE  OF  ITALY 


BY 

A.  L.  O.  E. 


Chicago  New  York  Toronto 

Fleming  H.  Revell  Company 
1900 


UV 


¥-y-^ 


CONTENTS 


CBAF. 
I. 
11. 
III. 
IV. 
V. 
VI. 
VII. 
VIII. 
IX. 
X. 
XI. 
XII. 
XIII. 
XIV. 
XV. 
XVI. 
XVII. 

xviir. 


THE  CALABRIAN   INN 

7 

A  SUSPICIOUS  CHARACTER      . 

13 

BITTER   WORDS 

19 

SEPARATION 

as 

ROUGH   COMPANY 

33 

THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE 

•  •  •  .  3Q 

MUSIC  AND  MADNESS  , 

*        •        •        •      44 

A  DASH   FOR   FREEDOM 

...  50 

ANXIOUS   HOURS 

57 

THE  LONE  SENTINEL       . 

•  •  .  .  .  Oi^ 

THE  ORPHAN'S  TALE 

71 

HOW  THE  LIGHT  WAS  LIT     . 

•  .  .  77 

FAILURE      . 

89 

TIDINGS 

95 

ONWARDS 

102 

A  PERILOUS   PASS 

•  •  •  •  109 

ONE  EFFORT   MORE      . 

"9 

VICTORY 

••••'••  123 


The  Robbers'  Cave. 


A  TALE  OF  ITALY. 


CHAPTER  1. 
A  CALABRIAN  INN. 

••Lazy  dog!  can't  he  drive  faster— keeping  us 
grilling  here  in  the  heat!  I  sb  .d  like  to  havi  the 
use  of  his  whip  for  a  few  minutes  and  try  its  effect 
upon    his    shoulders!"    Such   was    the    impatient 

H^iT/  r  f  T,?^^'^^i^  Cleveland,  as  for  the  third 
time  he  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  carriage  window 

.111-  Tu  Au^  "^^  \^^  ""^^^^  ^°"^e  to  Calabria  at 
all!  sighed  his  mother.  Horace  was  resuming  his 
lounging  position  in  the  carriage,  after  hurling  a  few 
Italian  words  of  abuse  at  the  drive/,  as  she  added 
It  was  a  nonsensical  whim  of  yours,  Horace  to 
Dnng  us  into  this  wild  land,  when  we  might  have 
remained  in  comfort  at  Naples,  with  every  conven! 
rrulrer^''  "^'  ^"^^  ^^  ""^  ^®^^  health  so  much 
J'^^^'^f^^^ricer  repeated  Horace  contemptuous- 
ly,^    would  you  compare  the  luxuries  of  Naples  its 

wiTthi^'i^^''^''"*''  '^'  *""''  '^^  '^^^  amusements! 
with  the  glonous  scenery  of  a  land  like  this?    Look 

what  a  splendid  mountain  rises  there,  all  clothed  to 

vtJ^T  T^  ^^^^^  '*^°<^s  a  ta"  palm,  like  the 
king  of  tnc  forest,  overlooking  the  rest.     And  see 

7 


8 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


«n7^f,?i  5°^  ^'^r''"^  *^^  °^^v«'  with  its  rugged  stem 
-M  ."  ^u^^  ^^^^^^'"  observed  Mrs.  Cleveland 
Not  when  the  breeze  ruffles  those  leaves  and 
shows  their  silver  linings?   look  there  now  -how 

Sn  sly'r  ^  "PP^^^  ""'^^  ^^^  ^"^h^--  of  an 

ril*^  am  too  weary  to  admire  anything,"  said  Mrs 
Cleveland  with  a  yawn,  "and  it  seems  as  if  we  were 

s:ff:c;ti:S  •'  '''  ""  ^'  '^^^^'   ^'^  '^^^  ^^  ^  "^^ 

sh^ll  ITb^'if aTrti^raTst'^^^^^^^^  '"^^^'  "^^^  ^^"^ 
fo3^®  li^^'^''  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  without 
taking  the  trouble  to  turn  round  made  reply  -  We 

Twenty-four  o'clock!"  exclaimed  Horace-  not 
surprised  however,  by  the  expression,  a1  the  reader 
3/nf '^^l  ^^.'  ^'  ^  ^^^  ^^"^iliar  With  .he  Italian 
s^?  to  sunset  "^i?^/.^"  twenty-four  hours  from  sun 
set  to  sunset.  Is  there  no  inn,— no  locanda  where 
we  could  rest  on  the  way?"  "^«tnaa,  wnere 

**Si,signore,"  answered  the  Calabrese  pointinp^ 
onwards  with  his  whip  to  a  small,  irregulariy  bim 
of  rnH.'^^'^  seemed  wedged  between  two  Masses 

T.fi.l  A^  ''°^°'"  ""^  ^^®  cliffs,  .that  one  might  fancy 
that  It  had  grown  out  of  them.  ^ 

ahlP  ••  ^^Kc ^  niuch  more  picturesque  than  comfort- 
able,     observed    Horace,  drawing  back  his   head 
and  showmg  the  inn  to  his  mother  ' 

rio    1*  ^^r°P  ^.^^^®"~^^  anywhere,  "  gasped   Mrs 
Cleveland,  fanning  herself  with  the  air  If  one  whose 
patience  as  well  as  strength  is  almost  exhausted 
I  can  go  no  further  to-day. "  "«*us,tea. 

''We  can  stop  and  bait,"  said  Horace:  and  a^ain 

dril'e^fn  T  ""l  ^^^^^^^^^  'o  give  his  oXs  tS 
driver  m  the  haughty  tone  of  command  which  he 
seemed  to  think  befitting  an  English^' miJdo?" 


A  CALABRIAN  INN. 


rJlX  H'^""  f^   ■'  «^^*°^^  *^at  Horace  Cleveland 
r^arded  himsek  as  one  of  the  lords  of  creaHnn 
aad,  from  national  or  family  or  ^SSnal  prSe  ^n' 

creatures  as  he  might  meet  in  Calabria  h7o 
manner,  even  to  his  mother,  was^?u£nt  and 
imperious.  Horace  Cleveland  had  iTad  inrii/ 
much  to  foster  his  vanity  and  strengthen  hi.  «wSf' 

?eXmed  V^^'t?  ^^^"^  PositionTh'^ct^rand 
ne  plumed  himself  not  a  little  uoon  it     "t^o  v^    i 

be  admired,  imitated,  followed,  in  the  S  w^ri^  S 
S.i!.»"".r''°°''  »»'"'«  expected  to  hod  t^e  samf 

HoScefehh^'^?*,Tr'^'  r^'^"  hesoonmnstentS-! 

T-hf V   !v.  '?^?'' ''°™  to  command, 
tn  mL  J  if-     *  triumphs  at  school  had  hardly  tended 
to  make  him  more  agreeable  at  hom«     hJ™ 
only  child,  and  his  lidowed  motherreeSded  him 
as  her  all  m  all.     Very  prond  was  Mrs.  Sand  S 

It  up  to  jerk  the  mouth  of  his  restive  steed    fnd 

So*®  w  '^?P^^-  ^^^'^^^^  health  and  weak  nei^es 
had  combined  to  nake  the  widowed  ladiTsometimeJ 
peevish,  and  even  unreasonable-  .JiU?Sf^'^^^ 


nRfi^vioU   ««^  "^  wiuowea  laay 

peevish,  and  even  unreasonable;  and  he 


10 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


Clashed  with  th^,  of  her  son  to  a  decree  that  cauqerl 
a  pamful  jar  upon  the  feelings  of  bo^th      Thus^hosf 

bil^rf "  ^^^'^'  1°  ^^^^  °*^«^  than  all  the  worid 
besides,  were  each  not  unfrequently  a  source  of 
annoyance  and  irritability  even  to  the  beinff  best 

bri7  at"" fm^'*^^*  '^  ^^^^f ?*  ^°"5^  ^°  ^°"^«  *«  Cala- 
Dm  at   all!       exclaimed    Mrs.   Cleveland,   as   the 

chaise  drew  up  at  the  door  of  the  inn 

Now  this  was  what  Horace  could  not  endure  to 

m^;  r'?  'I  ^^  ^^^°  *°  ^^tify  his  wisherand 
2«i  .,t?f  ^J'V?^";  °^."  judgment,  that  his  mother 
?t.l^  u^"^  ^^P^^'  ^^^  *h«  mountainous  south  of 
Italy.  Moreo-er  Horace  had  heard  that  same  excla. 
mation  nearly  .en  times  already  on  that  da^Ld  the 
effect  of  heat  and  weariness  had  drawn  largely  on 

oi'fi°.'^fi*'^.%''"'\  '^^^^y  t«  vent  his  illfhumo? 
on  the  first  thing  that  he  touched,  Horace  flune 

open  thedoor  of  the  chaise  as  he  might  have  hit  a?f 

foe  and  rudely  pushed  aside  a  young  Italian  who 

had  come  forward  to  help  the  lady  to  alight     The 

a^'looWf '°'"  '°  '^."  ^''^^Ser's  sun-burnt  cheek,  and 

a  look  of  anger    instantly  repressed,  passed   like 

ightning  over  his  face.     Mrs.  Cleveland  caught  thl 

Sn  'li-tT'^l'  ^V^  ^^^'  ^^^  ^'  «h«  walked  in?o  the 
inn,  laid  her  hand  on  the  arm  of  her  son,  and  whis! 
pered  to  him  in  English: 

••For  mercy's  sake,  do  not  treat  these  people  with 
S^tnnf  ••  ^.r.  ^"°^  *^^*  ^"  th«s«  Italians  clrry 
sJ^ng^rsr  """'  ""'^'    "^   ^^^    alone -amongst 

Horace's  only  reply  was  a  look  to  express  con 
tempt  for  all  Italians  in  general,  and  th 's  one Tn 

?o«nri"'  ^""^  ^  ^'''^^'''^  ^^^  ^11  consideSlois 
S?n  !«H  P''''  personal  fear.  He  snatched  up  a 
^ip.  and  one  or  two  shawls  from  the  chaise  and 
carried  them  into  the  locanda.  being  too  much  out 
MrfrV^  f ^^h^^^^^ther  the  support  of  Ws  arm 
Mrs.  Cleveland  was  shown  into  the  little  inn  bv 
Its  master,  who  came  forth  to  meet  her      He  was  a 


A  CALABRIAN  INN. 


II 


'•n,./     ■     .2?  prepossessing. 
Giuseppma!  Giuseppina!"  hi  shouted 

ho.e??^^„^°a"  Ho?ar  to^-J?- '^"  '»  give  »sX„%h,s 
language,,  iifhTelp^^e^'^l^^^P^r  ■"  *^  "''"- 

from^°heu\T/t';X^iJJ;«„^->.,-  f^   -''P' 
cotinrS^hthV"""^^^^ 

"EW  *"• '"'"  ^'™  ""'"  «=ted  Horace. 
footfdmSdeT""'  »»«<=«<">V  replied -the  bare- 

=e-i~^?li^^ei^h:f 
expressive  of  doubt  omelet,     but  m  a  tone 

W"!":!? U' qulck'^^^^^^^  ?^-  t^-t  you  may 

refreshmentl'^cried  Horace      ^  ''  "^'^'^  ^"^  ^^"^^ 

Giuseppina  showed  her  white  teeth  it,  o        m 
and  quitted  the  parlor.  ^  '"  ^  ^"'*^®» 


19 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


Hnr?l   '??f'?^^  '°  *^^«  ho"*>We  den!"  exclaimed 

nn^«     \?*^^^'°i/P  ^^  ^^®  ^^"^°W'  a^^  throwing  it 
open.     Very  little  air  was  admitted  on  that  sultir 

fSJ!^^^  *^®  i^®,  P®°P^®  ^°^»^«  outside,  Horace?" 
faintly  mqmred  Mrs.  Cleveland? 

"TW®  Italians--doing  nothing,"  was  the  reply. 

They   are   merely   gathering  round   that   yoSng 
tTw«^cJ°°^  we  saw  at  the  door,  apparently  to  listen 

-Tho??.°f'  ^^^  t^  ^^'  ^  8^^'^^  i«  ^'^  hand." 
Cleveland  whom  you  struck?"  inquired  Mrs. 

TiilL^^  1?°*  ^*"^®  ^J""-^  °^^y  Pushed  him  back. 
Ju^f  ,/fJ^°^^  ^^«t  t'^,  taught  to  know  their  own 
P..w'     Horace  haughtily  replied. 

My  dear  boy  "  said  Mrs.  Cleveland,  leaning  for- 

"  vn^  ^r^  ^^^  '^^^'  °.°  ^^^^^  «^«  had  wearily  funk, 
you  must  acquire,  mdeed  you  must,  a  more  gentle  • 
and  conciliatory  manner.     In  a  wild  strange  place 
l'^1,*^'\?^^^^*>"  °"*  °^  the  bounds  of  civiffzadon 
LnMr?^^'u   ^?'j^^Sht  bring  serious   trouble-i 
wanton  insult  might  cost  a  life '" 

in^o«??J'^"?*  ^"t'?'^'"'  ^°^  ^^  he  remained  look- 
SS.7JL  5'^''"^°^'  ^'^  ^°ther  could  not  see  on  his 
eter  Sf.flf''  '^'  ^^"-'^^  "^P'°°^'  «he  saw,  how- 
ft«5  ^i^!^  l-V^  impatiently  moving  his  foot  up 
t^llr^'  which  was  his  trick  when  he  had  to  listen 
to  anything  which  it  did  not  please  him  to  hear 
h.^A  ^^°^^®  on  a  guitar,  touched  by  a  skillful 
hand,  were  now  heard,  and  immediately  the  hum 
of  voices  without  was  silenced. 

JJniJ^^^^A^u^^  a  man  play  a  guitar!"  exclaimed 
lo^i         1  ^.^  ^®  ^PP^^'  the  tones  of  a  voice  singu- 
nclL        ?'°''!.^?,^  "^^  mingled  with  those  of  the 
mstrument,  and  Mrs.  Cleveland,  weary  as  she  felt 
was  lured  to  the  window  to  listeA.  ' 

Surrounded  by  a  group  of  Calabrese  stood  the 
musician.  He  was  simply  but  picturesquely 
attired,  after  the  fashion  of  his  country-  the  red 


A  SUSPICIOUS  CHARACTER. 


>3 


jacket,  not  worn,  but  carried  across  the  shoulder 
ready  to  be  put  on  in  season  of  rain,  left  exposed  to 
Tiew  the  white  shirt.  A  felt  hat,  of  a  somewhat 
oval  shape,  shaded  a  countenance  which,  with  its 
classical  outlines  and  thoughtful  expression,  could 
have  formed  a  study  for  an  artist.  The  song  of  the 
th"°?_  '  translated  into  English,  might  run 

If  to  pine  in  a  dungeon  were  e'er  my  fate 
When  light  struggled  in  through  the  iron  grate, 
What  view  would  most  soothe  my  unwearied  eye,— 
^1  he  boundless  ocean— the  earth— or  sky? 

Oh!  not  the  ocean!— its  ceaseless  swell 
With  my  restless  grief  would  accord  too  well  • 
The  voice  of  its  wild  waves  would  break  my  sleep. 
And  the  captive  bend  o'er  his  chain  and  weep. 

'Twere  sweet  to  gaze  on  the  laughing  earth, 
And  view,  though  distant,  its  scenes  of  mirth. 
Ah,  no!  ah,  no!  they  would  but  recall 
Ltfe's  flowers  to  one  who  had  lost  them  all. 

The  sky,  the  sky,  unbounded,  bright. 
With  its  silvery  moon,  and  its  stars  of  light. 
The  blush  of  mcrning,  the  evening  glow, 
Its  passing  clouds,  and  its  radiant  bow,— 

There— there  would  I  fix  my  unwearied  eye 
Till  fancy  could  paint  a  bright  world  on  high. 
And  earth  and  its  sorrows  would  fade  in  night 
With  freedom  before  me— and  heaven  in  sight! 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  SUSPICIOUS  CHARACTER. 

"Who  is  that  singer?"  inquired  Mrs.  Cleveland  in 
broken  Italian  of  the  girl  Giuseppina,  who  had  just 
reentered  the  room  with  a  large  dish  of  maccaroni 
which  looked  like  a  pile  of  tobacco-pipes. 

*'Improvisatore,"  answered  the  girl. 

"What  is  that?"  inquired  Horace. 


I 


I 


»4 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


"is 


nnAX  ^"^Pjovisatore,"  replied  Mrs.  Cleveland   "i 

one  who  makes  poetry  on  the  spur  of  the  mom'en 

This  class  of  mmstrels  is,  I  believe,  peculiar  to  Italv' 

the  beautiful  language  of  the  country  givrngLdit^^ 

to  rapid  composition.     Do  you  suDoose  •' f ^ri!!^ 

tinned,  addresW  herself  to^Giusepp^^^^^  "that  the" 

&r  "  '""^  "^'^    *^^'  sonl^about  p?Lons 

"Prisons,"  repeated  the  Calabrese,  with  a  slie-ht 

say'  tSt"t::hl>  ^'J""'  shoulders;''l%??Sl:^ 

prLns  '•       ^  ""'^^  ""^"^  "^^^^    ^^S    about 

♦  'fw**"  ^^^'^  mean  us  to  understand, ' '  said  Horace 

w'&TsL^^oahr„T'  •"=  ""^  "^'^  ^'^-'--'^^ 

.„!!S^'  ^^'   ^"^^P   Itnow??)"   replied  the  girl  with 
upon'SeTaS:.""^  ^'"^'  ''  ^^^  ^^^^^  ^-  "«' 

rwZv-^^  -"^^rL  ^"iprison^d,    I  trust,   for    any 
crime?    inquired  Mrs.  Cleveland,  more  uieasy  than 

stmngU       "'"""'''^^^  °^  "^'^'"'^  rudeness^tothe 
'*Chi  sa?"  repeated  the  girl. 

\»J  ^^« 'IfV^^^'^''.^'"  ^^^  *^^  ^^^y^  "that  there  can 
lurk  much  harm  in  one  with  such  a  countenance 
and  such  an  exquisite  voice. ' '  ""tenance, 

!*P5v^e's  an  Italian!"  cried  Horace,  who  rather 
prided  himself  on  his  prejudices 

rr^^T^^Sl^'^^u^^''^^'  fidgeting  about   the  table, 
moving  the  dish  now  to  the  right,  now  to  the  left 
^LIa^^  could  never  satisfy  herself  that  she  had 
placed  It  perfectly  straight. 

wrr?<?r-*^'^  3^?^^^^>    ^^   y°"   call    him,"  said 
Horace,    'earn  his  living  by  his  music?" 

Chi  sa?"  repeated  Giuseppina,  not  looking  up 
but  showing  her  teeth  in  a  meaning  smile.      ^  ^' 

play?"^^  '^^^  ^^"""^  ^°  """^^'"^  ^^*  «^°ff  a^<l 

JfWcT^l*^®  sick  also,"  replied  Giuseppina;  "he 
gathers  herbs,  and  has  wonderful  power  to   take 


I 


A  SUSPICIOUS  CHARACTER. 


»5 


thn/  %^^f''.*°^  ^""^f^l  "^^^""^^  ^^°"^  «word  or  from 
snot.     But,     she  added,  crossing  herself  and  shak 
ing  her  head,  "the  abbate  (abbot)  says  ?hat  none 
*^I^^t^!  ^°^  ^«  ^^"'e  by  his  knowledge  '• 

This  Raphael  is  looked  upon,  then,  as  rather  a 
suspicious  character?"  i  •»  lumer  a 

Giuseppina  dropped  her  voice,  and  looked  as  if  the 
desire  to  impart  information  were  strugglinrwith  a 
fear  of  danger  from  so  doing  as  she  mal  an^swer. 

He  is  certainly  no  stranger  to  Matteo. ' ' 
,   ^  .t.  .i  ^,°''^  ^*s  pronounced  in  a  whisper  so 
low  that  both  Mrs.  Cleveland  and  her  Ton  Sad  to 
^®mK°^^*^^  *°  <^atch  the  name. 
Who  is  Matteo?"  asked  Horace 

ge?tr  ???u%re'  '"  '^"'^  ^"'  ^^^^'°^«  -^^  - 
she  said  with  low  but   rapid    utterance,  glancing 

third  listener  was  present;  "we  don't  speak  of  him 
—no  one  speaks  of  him— but— " 

••But?"  said  Horace  with  some  curiosity  as  the 
speaker  came  to  a  pause.  ""osity,  as  the 

/'?i-'\  cpntinued   Giuseppina,    with    the   sam** 
stealthy  look  and  quick  utterance,  'Tdid  not  the  sS 
non  hear  how  the  government  ciurier  was  stoned 
^^  ^°bb/d  of  three  hundred  dollars  oT  the  K 

Sead?  '?f  is t-d'^n^r  ^°°"i°  ^^y'^^  ^^  'hot 
oeao?    Jt  IS  said  that  they  owed  him  a  grudge    And 

Ind  ^?iT''^  Albani  was  attacked  in  h^dSiurino 
on  thlheYdf""^'^''^^^^^  ^°*^  her  servants  knocked 

hi-r^L^^^'^T^^  *^^  Matteo?"  asked  Horace,  while 
his  mother,  who  only  understood  half  of  the  Sr' s 
mfomation.  clasped  her  hands  with  a  gestufe  of 

brl'f  "wL^^'^'^'^'^i^^'P®^^^  *h«  t^l^ative  Gala, 
brese,  who  appeared,  however,  greatly  to  relish  the 
diversion  of  frightening  an  Eiflishladr  Horace 
looked  as  if  he  could  not  be  frightened. 


"^Jf 


t6 


I 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


do*^°ucteTi?^' i:[d"?or  '°ri"°'^^"^  'o  keep 
are  the  soldiers  about?"  ^"°^  Cleveland;  "what 

expL's^i'elod-^herr^L'l  ^^f^P.P^"^  ^^th  an 
day,  horsemen/on  thdr  w^v  tn%'^°^.*^«°^  ^«r«  to- 
prisoner  with  hem  ar^rbound  hl^'^i  ^^^^  ^^  » 
—the  girl  put  bart  w   °°""d  behind  his  back-" 

I  hope  that  it  was  th  ;=!«,;.     .^P™™  bandit. 

"Zitto!  (hnlb'y-  J^^^f^°'   S"^  Horace. 

was  not  MltteJthe^^rd  T^^^f^^..  <^''-  "" 

Giuseppina  again  nodded  her  head 
And  what  is  likely  to  become  ofhim?" 

The  girl  twisted  her  linger  in  f i,.  il™       ... 
wore,    tightening   it   round   her  %^1'°  Y"''"'" 
answered  with  a  shroe  "?w  ,%>  °^?'    ^'"   »»'y 

room  to  bring  in  th??fsto??ie"dL,S'  *"""•"  "^ 
torJ^pe'J  MrcfevS-  «"-"  ^  "-  -e 

table.*  '^°l"*s&''t2.f/\^"'«d  himself  at  the 
adventure  i  "clSb^^J  Sd  t  ^°'  "•«-"  »'  » 

"Did  n?t  rhefef,Tr/'';.T''^»«^  «•*  'aay. 
her,  for  she  s^ke  ^  fa^i??"- ""f '^'y  .^-Jerstand 

^""Zr^Ti""  ,f  htJ^^WndiSf """"^ 

Hortc'L-.tVS.^C--":^^^ 

(he  was  not  now  soeiwI^V  i>  ,.' hope  that  they" 

brin^  us  somethtegTette?lror   «^^"'"*fy>  "'^1' 
Giuseppina  oushed  VhlZ?      ***"'ff  'han  this!" 

and  reenteredfa  dfeh  of  ^'.?''f  °  *'*  ''*'  *"««. 
asked  for  an  escort. ''     ^^^^^ '     ^  wish  that  we  had 


A  SUSPICIOCS  CHARACTER.  ,f 

brought.  ^^^°^*   w^^ch    she    had 

"We'll  be  at  Staiti  to-niuht  also  "  ^^iA  xi 
addj^^in   English,   "so,   ^ot'he^yo«'"'„eS'^S 

••S-e^s^npn  carhr^^d  bethS.-^.  ''"■-■'■"-' 
»  d|;:t.  -fe^s^n-^ltvlra^^nT."^  "'» 

"«  in^lnSfr'^L?^  "Other,  like  herSf^s'^eak. 

eyes,  as  it  cCe4d  no  mlan  L"?n  r'''""^  """'  "" 
talk  of  safety  as  if  tW^  ?w  ^  *°  ''*/  **"•  "^oa 
not  inst  hl/r^MJ       place  were  safe.     Have  you 

beioi^a  flllow  lefC!  ?'  "'"  «^^"S  "*  bandittUs 
■'Th-i-         •     '  '°°^*  '™n>  a  prison?" 

notnndemandTwT'"  '""'^  Mrs'^Cleyeland;  "I  did 
"B«  I  d,™ "  nuiS!  Jh  """'"y  °°«  °'  the  band  ■• 

manner;  "and  Haw'the  mister' o?  tH  "^^''''r""^ 
who.  by  the  way  looks  a  n?ffi!^  v  ^  ''^7  ^°''^' 
one,  in  close  conferrace  ^^?uT  ''  ^'[f  t"""'  "'as 
l«J^do„btless  c4rh°ererrVo'''^ori^^'''''''''''- -■>" 

fo^^f^re  W°  n?;^^^  ^""^  *«  P""«  "f  ""tasted 
the  w^  lady  alMncL^'ff "'?  ''^""S  '^l'^"  f™™ 
whoma^fttirdange^wasXr  »**.'■     "°'^'  *» 


i8 


TK»'   ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


**1  wU^  {:^t  ^  ou  would  eat  mother;  you  know 
that  y«Mi  will  be  qu/e  exhausted  if  you  don't,"  cried 
Horace  in  a  tone  of  vexation. 

'  i  can't  travel  in  the  dark— I  can't  go  to  be  way- 
liid— robbt  1— perhaps— " 

"Drm't  you  see,"  cri^d  Horace,  striking  the 
handle  o!  im  spoon  on  the  table  to  give  more  force 
to  his  argument,  ''that  if  we  stay  her.  we  are  just 
as  likely  to  come  to  grief?  Have  you  never  heard 
or  read  of  horrid  little  wayside  inns  kept  by  robbers 
in  disguise;  of  beds  contrived  to  fall  down  upon 
travelers  and  crush  them;  of  stealthy  footsteps  at 
night— and  all  that  sort  of  thing?  Now  this  seems 
to  be  exactly  the  place  for  such  an  unpleasant 
adventure." 

**Oh,  why  did  we  ever  come  to  Calabria?" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Cleveland,  sinking  back  in  her 
chair. 

Horace  felt  some  self-reproach  for  thus  adding  to 
the  terrors  of  his  mother.  He  hastily  finished  his 
omelet,  and  said  in  a  more  reassuring  voice 

"You  see,  mother  dear,  if  we  once  get  to  Staiti, 
.v-e  11  be  under  the  wing  of  the  law:  you  can  travel 
with  a  military  escort  like  a  queen." 

*'But  it  is  the  journey  to  Staiti--  ' 

"Never  fear  that,  it  will  soon  be  over;  anything 
is  better  than  stopping  here." 

Horace  presently  pushed  back  his  chair,  and 
nsing  from  the  table,  said  to  Mrs.  Cleveland  "I'm 
going  to  order  Jacomo  to  put  to  the  horses;  the 
sooner  we're  off  the  better;"  and  without  waiting 
to  hear  his  mother's  objections,  the  youth  hastily 
left  the  apartment. 

"Willful,  unmanageable  boy ! ' '  murmured  the  lady 
to  herself;  "he  thinks  that  he  knows  better  than 
every  one  else,  and  I  feel  too  much  exhausted  and 
worn  out  to  oppose  him.  The  charge  of  such  an 
ungovernable  child  is  too  much  for  a  poor  widow 
like  me.  I  should  never  have  yielded  to  his  entreat- 
ies, and  come  to  this  horrible,  desolate  place.    If  I 


I 


J 


4 


BITTER  WOR/^S 


!•? 


again  in  a  rivilized    land 


once 


once   find  mysel 

expedrtioD  .uch  as  thl°  ™°  "''""  *  *"^ 


CHAPTER  III. 
BITTER  WORDS. 

his  fingers/  ^  ^    ^^'  ^^^P^"«^  ^^"iself  with 

as  ESS: -"-",- !c-' 

act  to  start  before  morn^ng^'  '     "  "'°""'  ''*  "° '"''" 
good  W?'VocS'Vrr"?',  ''•^^-"■"Odation  here- 

Jacomo,  harness  the  horses    m,^  ^,v«^*i.....  ^- 


ao 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


exclaimed.  "If  there  be  any  delay,  not  an  extra 
carlino  (a  small  coin)  shall  you  have  at  the  end  of 
the  journey." 

The  driver,  with  an  exclamation  directed  to  his 
patron  saint  and  some  mutterings  which  Horace 
did  not  understand/ began,  making  preparations  to 
obey,  moving  his  lazy  limbs  more  leisurely  than 
suited  the  impatience  of  his  employer.  The  host, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  went  into  the  inn.  As 
Horace  was  about  to  follow  him  thither,  the  impro- 
visatore,  who  had  been  standing  under  the  shadow 
of  a  neighboring  tree  unperceived  by  the  youth, 
came  forward  and  crossed  over  between  him  and 
the  door,  not  looking  at  Horace,  nor  appearing  to 
observe  him,  but  as  he  passed  close  in  front  of  him 
droppmg  the  words  "Do  not  go,"  in  a  low  but  ear- 
nest tone. 

Horace  glanced  in  surprise  after  the  speaker, 
startled  by  so  strange  a  warning  from  the  last  person 
whom  he  should  have  expected  to  give  one.  He 
would  have  liked  to  have  questioned  Raphael,  but 
the  improvisatore  had  already  disappeared. 

••I  wonder  if  it  be  wise  to  start,"  thought  Horace, 
whose  resolution  for  the  first  time  began  to  waver; 
•*yet  I  have  no  reason  to  trust  this  stranger,  who 
seems  to  bear  an  evil  character,  even  amongst  the 
people  of  this  place." 

''The  signor  has  changed  his  mind?"  inquired 
Jacomo  with  a  grin —  the  man  having  probably 
detected  a  look  of  indecision  upon  the  face  of  voun? 
Cleveland.  ^       ® 

This  way  of  putting  the  question  fixed  the  deter- 
mination of  Horace,  who  secretly  prided  himself 
upon  what  he  thought  strength  and  decision  of  char- 
acter. "I  never  change  my  mind, "  he  said  haught- 
ily; 'I  shall  be  ready  to  start  in  ten  minutes.  Let 
me  then  find  the  carriage  at  the  door,  or  you  shall 
have  reason  to  repent  of  the  delay. " 

In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  vehicle  stood 
ready  in  front  of  the  inn.     The  one-eyed  man,  who 


I  ! 


BITTER  WORDS. 


ai 


seemed  to  combine  in  himself  the  offices  of  landlord 
and  ostler,  was    there  to   see  his    guests  depart 
Gmseppma  was  at  the  door,  and  about  half-a-dozen 
bare-footed  brown  urchins,  crowded  together  Ike 
bees  to  view  the  strangers  enter  the  carriage    as 

bel?inf  thfl  '  ir  ^""^^  ""'''''  ^'  the  soldier 
m/1a^  ^^""^'^    ^^^y-     Raphael    stood   with 

folded  arms  near   the   heads  of  the   horses      He 

nS?.^"^l^°'^?  ^^*^  "°  °«^'  «or  seemed  to  take 
notice  of  the  whispered  remarks  of  the  children  who 
glanced  at  him  ever  and  anon  ^""a^n  who 

iT,^'^^^^^*^•'^'■^  ^^?  ^'"^  °°^^'"  said  one  boy,  point- 
ShinS  w^  jmprovisatore;    "did  they  tie  his  arms 

onh?s^^^^^  ^^^^^  '"^^  ^-^^ 

;•  How  did  he  get  away?   did  Matteo    break  his 
pnson,  and  set  him  free?"  ^® 

c«*T®'pfP^  *^®  soldiers  let  him  off  because  he  sines 
so  fine  1"  suggested  one  black-eyed   little  damsfl 

■sp;^i'Sk^«atorr'  "^  ''''^  •*^- »" "« 

But  he's  a  bad  man,  I  know  he's  a  bad  man  " 
whispered  a  thin,  sallow  child  with  a  solemn  Took^ 

holy  water/"'  "^"^  *"  ^'^  ^^^°""-.  "o^  touch  the 

^ol!?^®*^^^'",®*'^^^/^®^  the  former  speaker  indie- 
SeSeflctor.^''''  '"  '"^P"'"'^°^  ^^^"^  ^^^«^^  ^f  ifs 

"iWatohf^"* V  ''*'''"•  P^^sjsted  the  sallow  child; 
to  thlTni?^  ^'"^  ^^^'"^  ^"^  a^a^";  I^e  never  bows 
Zr  ^,?.ly  image,  nor  crosses  himself:  and  I  don't 
believe  that  he  tells  his  beads,  or  ever  Voes  to  con 
fess.  Mother  says  that  he's  a  wicked  man  and 
prays  to  none  of  the  saints."  '  ^"^ 

fi, J!!®  faintest  approach  to  a  smile  on  the  lips  of 

partTt'E?^^'"''  "^^""  ^^''^y^^  thac  he  heaXny 
^  Th^  iff!  conversation  of  which  he  was  the  subject 
The  attention  of  the  childreti  «ra«  «o«,  >i;„^l"-'^V: 

-"^'Tr    viivcifcCU   bU 


ai 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


the  travelers  who  were  leaving  the  inn.  "How  pale 
the  signora  is!  does, she  not  look  anxious  and  fright- 
ened?" were  the  whispers  exchanged  anion?  the 
group.  ** 

Uneasy  and  irresolute  Mrs.  Cleveland  certainly 
was.  Horace,  who,  however  faulty  in  other  re- 
spects, never  concealed  anything  from  his  mother 
had  told  her  of  the  warning  of  Raphael;  and  as  he 
led  her  to  the  carriage,  lingering  and  reluctant,  he 
was  warmly  combating  the  idea  that  the  Italian's 
words  should  have  the  slightest  effect  in  influencing 
their  movements. 

••Doubtless  he  is  playing  into  the  hands  of  this 
Matteo,  of  whose  atrocities  we  have  been  hearing 
and  who  will  be  as  savage  as  a  bear  at  the  capture 
of  his  son.  Common  sense  tells  us  that  we  should 
put  no  faith  in  this  stranger;  a  low  musician,  a  jail- 
bird,  a  companion  of  thieves!" 

These  words  were  uttered  aloud,  of  course  in  the 
English  language,  but  as  Mrs.  Cleveland  glanced  at 
the  improvisatore  to  judge  by  his  face  whether  he 
mented  the  epithets  given  him,  she  again  saw  a  sud- 
den flush  tinge  the  paleness  of  his  cheek.     Raphael 
stepped  forward,  as  if  to  help  her  into  the  carriage 
for  her  foot  was  already  on  the  step,  and  again  in 
low  tones  breathed  the  words  ''Do  not  go,''  but  this 
time  in  English,  though  with  an  accent  quite  Italian. 
Mrs.  Cleveland  started,  and  would   have  drawn 
back;  but  Horace  at  that  moment  almost  lifted  her 
into  the  carriage,  and  sprang  in  after  her  with  a 
quickness  which  gave  his  nervous  mother  hardly 
time  to  think  or  to  breathe. 

I^Horace— I    can't    go  — I  won't   go  — stop  the 
driver— we  will  get  out!"  gasped  the  lady. 

••Mother,  it  is  nonsense;  you  will  make  us  the 
laughing-stock  of  the  place!"  exclaimed  Horace 
who  had  caught  sight  of  a  leer  upon  the  face  of 
the  one-eyed  man,  which  had  strengthened  his  sus- 
picions as  to  the  character  of  the  low  little  inn  in  the 
mountains. 


BITTER  WORDS. 


»3 

The  driver  cracked  his  whip,  and  the  jingle  of  the 
horses' bells  was  heard  as  they  moved  forward  on 
the  white,  dusty  road.  «*«  un 

The  conscience  of  Horace  smote  him  a  little  for 
the  rudeness  of  his  manner  and  words.  "You 
know,  mother,"  he  said,  in  a  softer  tone,  "that  I 
must  care  for  your  comfort  and  safety. ' ' 

Comfort  r  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cleveland  with  indi^- 
nation;  "willful,  ungrateful  boy  that  you  are  yo^u 
never  care  for  anything  but  your  own  selfish'  fan- 

Tf^}L<r  L^'^^T^^^  '°  strength,  and  wounded  in 
feeling,  the  irritated  mother  burst  into  a  flood  of 
tears. 

''Mother,  I  can't  stand  this!"  exclaimed  Horace, 
in  extreme  vexation  at  seeing  her  weep 
c  v^K^i^i^^?  planted  many  a  thorn  in  my  pillow  " 
your'ownr   ^  ^'    ^""  "^'^  ^^^  ^'^"^  oL^ay  in 

Horace  could  not  answer.  His  heart  seemed  to 
be  rising  into  his  throat.  He  pulled  his  cap  low 
over  his  eyes,  and  leaned  back  in  the  corner  of  the 
carriage,  wishing,  with  all  his  soul,   that  he  had 

JiT    ^u  ^i'^^^^SS  and  reproaches,  but  not  to  tears 

dri^^f  ^  ^uP  T°i"^  *°  '^"  "P^^  hi«  heart  like  a 
drop  of  molten  lead.  Horace  had  never  but  once 
before  seen  his  parent  weep  upon  his  account  and 

ofVe'mo??.:^!?^  drewfoVthose  tears  was  one 
of  the  most  tender  recollections  of  his  childhood 
Horace  remembered  the  time  when  he  had  la^^n  in 

tl  «5^  ^°*;.  P^'^^^?  ^y  ^«^^^^'  ^^d  when  awaken 
ing  again  and  again  in  the  long,  wretched  ni^rius  he 

^e  'foSn'nf  "i;-"'^  '^!i?^"^  ''^^'^'  ^^^  shaded  fandle! 
drfnkT  rlt^  T^^f '  ""^^^y  ^°  ^^^^  the  cooling 
Dered  how,  as  long  as  his  danger  continued  her 
calm  courage  had  never  failed  her,  f^  and'  love 
supporting  her  through  sleepless  nights  and  n,  ser 

last'  ''S'.^-  '^^'  ^^"?  '^^  ^^^t^'-  h-d  said  at 
last,     The  crisis  is  over,  he  will  do  well,"  her  over- 


94 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


Strained  feelings  had  at  length  given  way  and  she 
had  wept  tears  of  thankful  delight  ove7the  chHd 
who  lay  on  her  bosom!     How  different  from  those 

finoii'te?  ^"'"  l^"  ^'°P.^  ^^^^^  '^^  wounded   d°^ 
appointed   parent  was   shedding  now!    A   painful 
sensation  came  over  Horace  as  the  doubt  suggested 
Itself  to  his  mind  whether  his  mother  woulf  have 
f?   twt^'^^^r'  ^^^''  recovery  had  she  known 
all  that  his  petulance  would  cost  her;  nay   Horace 
was  not  certain  whether,  on  the  whole  he/only  and 
much-loved  son  had  not  given  her  more  pahi^San 
pleasure.     It  was  too  true  that  he  /uid  thought  more 
of  his  own  selfish  fancies  than  of  the  wishls  o?his 
tender  parent;  that  he  had  often  treated  her  with 
disrespect,    and    even    with    actual    disobedience 
Horace's    conscience    told    him    that   he  had    not 
honored  his  mother,  ,nor  made  her  happy;  and  he 
was  so  painfully  stung  by  its  reproaches  that  he  was 
half  inclined  to  call  out  to  the  driver  to  go  bac™ 
the  inn,  as  a  kind  of  practical  way  of  showing  his 
parent  that  he  regretted  having  p?eferred  ™^wn 
opinion  to  hers      But  the  carriage  was  now  p W 

i«L  K      ^  T^*^  ^°.'^^^P  ^^^  ^^"-ow,  that  it  would 
have  been  almost  impossible  to  stop  it,  and  quite 
impossible  to  turn.     The  utmost  atten  ion  o?  the 
driver  was  required  to  keep  his  horses  on  their  lels 
and  every  now  and  then  a  tremendous  jolt   made 

vent  herself  from  being  jerked  out  of  her  seat.     She 

IfLlT^iu'r""^^  ^"*  '^^  w^«  thoroughly  dis- 
pleased  with  her  son,  and  was  not  disposed  to 
address  him  again,  even  if  the  roughness  of  ttie  road 
had  not  rendered  it  difficult  to  speak 

Horace  knew  that  he  ought  to  ask  his  mother's 
forgiveness  at  once,  as  he  had  often  done  when  I 
child;  but  pnde  shrank  from  that  simple  coti?se 
As  a  compromise  between  conscience  anS  pride  he 
said,  with  a  little  hesitation:  ^       * 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  spoke  so  unguardedly  about 
that  mysterious   Italian;   though  who  coulS  Uve 


SEPARATION. 


«s 


fonguer  °^  ^°^  """^  ^®'"®  comprehending  the  English 

Mrs.  Cleveland   made   no  reply,  but   continued 

Sir  °    '^'  '"'""^^  ^^"^"^^^  an  opposes 

effort°-tLf?cfJ'^''I.i^''°*^\".^*^   ^<^^^c«^  with  an 

Sk  c-1  ^  ^  ^il^^^^^d  anything  to  vex  you." 
h.!n  IVi  fi°?""'''"  the  averted  face.     This  had  not 
hTA^^  f  ^V""*'  """"V^^  ^^^'^^^  time  that  Horace 
appa?™  ^^^^  ^"^  ^^^^  °^«"^««'  t^<^-gh 

"Make  up  in  number  what  they  lack  in  weight" 
Constant  fuction  produces  on  the  mind  the  same 
effect  that  it  does  on  the  body-a  rankling  ^?b 
more  painful  than  the  result  of  Ve  sha^'rp  blL    'J 
few  affectionate  words,  a  filial  embrace,  had  oft«n 

hT^t  '"*"^f "'  ^^P^^ation  for  an  ebuuLn  of 
hasty  temper ;  love  readily  forgets  and  forgives  -but 
when  the  conduct  repented  of  to-day  is  r^Sd  tS 
morrow  when  hastiness  becomes  habitual  when 
pnde  and  self-will  gain  increasing  strength  what 
wonder  If  a  feeling  of  resentment  mingle  even  with 
maternal  affection?  Mrs.  Cleveland  w%s  in TsTate 
of  nervous  irritation,  and  not  disposed  ?o  meet  the 
constrained  advances  of  her  son.     Deeply  mortified 

vLed'  S^hi^'if  S^'^  ^^  "^°^^«^'  UTar  more 
back  in  the  oi^'^^^'  Horace  again  threw  himself 

?h7JwT^t^rnTor;'  thesetting^unwe4rw 

CHAPTER  IV. 

SEPARATION. 

Scarcely  had  the  upper  rim  of  the  golden  sun 

dipped  below  the  horizon,  when  the  darfcurtSin  of 

night  was  thrown  over  the  landscape,  spangled  with 

tremulous  stars.     Horace  was  starS^^i T °rt7.^- 


96 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


agreeable  reflections  by  what  seemed  almost  like 
sudden  darkness;  and  Mrs.  Cleveland  became  yet 
more  nervously  alive  to  the  dangers  of  the  road 
when  she  could  no  longer  see  their  approach 

Havmg  reached  the  bottom  of  a  long,  steep  hill 
Tacomo  got  down  from  his  seat,  and  lit  the  carriage 
lamps.  In  reply  to  the  lady's  anxious  question  as 
to  whether  it  would  not  yet  be  better  to  go  back,  he 
replied  that  it  would  now  be  as  easy  to  proceed  to 
btaiti  as  to  return  to  the  inn,  for  the  road  down 
which  they  had  just  descended  was  one  fitted  for 
goats  rather  than  for  horses.  Jacomo  muttered  and 
grumblc-l  a  good  deal,  as  he  remounted  his  seat 
about  < '.  folly  of  having  started  at  all;  and  his 
words,  though  but  half  understood,  did  not  tend  to 
reassure  Mrs.  Cleveland. 

The  momentary  glare  which  the  lamps  threw  in 
passing  on  gray  rock,  or  gloomy  thicket,  seemed  to 
make  the  darkness  beyond  more  deep  and  oppress- 
ive; and  the  jingle  of  the  horse-bells,  and  rumble 
of  the  wheels,  but  drearily  broke  the  stillness  of  that 
unfrequented  road.      Horace   knew  well  that  his 
mother  was  in  an  agony  of  nervous  alarm,  dreading 
to  catch  sight  of  a  bandit  behind  every  bush;  and 
notwithstanding  his  natural  courage  he  began  in 
some  measure    to  share   her  apprehensions.      Ra- 
phael's warning  rang  in  his  ears— and  the  more 
vividly    memory  recalled  the  countenance  of  him 
who  had  given  it,  the  more   Horace   wondered  at 
himself  for  having  allowed  so  little  weight  to  his 
words.     Horace  had  often  longed  for  an  adventure- 
but  night  traveling  through  a  wild  and  desolate 
country,  known  to  be  infested  by  robbers,  has  in  it 
more  of  romance  than  of  pleasure  even  to  one  of 
courageous  spirit. 

The  road  now  lay  through  the  deep  recesses  of  a 

wood,  where  the  boughs,  meeting  and  intermingling 

above,  formed  an  arch  over  the  way,  and  blotted  out 

'^°°^J^^®w  the  few  stars  that  had  gleamed  in  the  sky 

Suddenly  there  was  heard  the  sharp  report  of  a 


SEPARATION. 


»7 


pistol,  which  made  Mrs.  Cleveland  start  and  shriek. 
The  next  moment  the  horses  were  thrown  violently 
back  upon  their  haunches,  and  the  lamplight  dimly 
showed  mdistinct  forms  glancing  like  phantoms 
through  the  darkness.  Then  came  wild,  fierce  faces 
at  the  window;  the  door  was  forced  open,  and  the 
travelers  dragged  out  of  the  carriage  almost  before 
they  had  time  to  be  certain  that  all  was  not  some 
terrible  dream ! 

Horace's  first  impulse  was  to  defend  his  mother. 
All  unarmed  as  he  was,  he  struck  at  the  man  who 
had  seized  her,  but  received  himself  a  sharp  blow  on 
ge  arm  which  made  it  drop  stunned  to  his  side. 
He  glanced  round,  and  that  glance  was  sufficient  to 
assure  him  that  resistance  would  be  utterly  hopeless. 
There  were  at  least  five  or  six  robbers  around,  most 
of  them  already  busily  engaged  in  rifling  the  car- 
nage; and  strange  sounded  their  laughter  and  their 
jests  as  they  drew  forth  now  this  thing— now  that— 
draggmg  cloaks,  bandboxes,  dressing-case,  umbrella, 
fan,  to  be  piled  in  a  heap  on  the  road. 

The  bandit  who  had  seized  Mrs.  Cleveland  had 
already  torn  from  her  neck  the  gold  chain,  and  with 
It  the  watch  which   she  wore;   and   plunging  his 
coarse  hand  into  her  pocket  had  turned  it  inside  out, 
to  make  sure  that  none  of  its  contents  should  escape 
him.     Trembling  as  in  a  fit  of  ague,  the  poor  lady 
had  been  constrained  to  pull  off   her  gloves,  and 
draw  hastily  from  her  icy  fingers  the  jeweled  rings 
which  adorned  them.     Horace  was  half-maddened 
at  the  sight,  but  he  had  no  power  to  protect  his 
mother;  he  could  but  pass  his  left  arm  around  her 
to  support  her  from  sinking,  and  glare  at  the  spoil- 
ers  with  the  vain  wrath  of  one  whose  strength  does 
not  equal   his  spirit.     Jacomo  was  on  his    knees, 
invoking,  the  Virgin  and  all  the  saints  to  defend 
him!     xhe  robbers  took  little  notice  of  him,  save 
that  one  spurned  him  with  his  foot  in  passing,  and 
another  sternly  bade  him  cease  his  whining,  or  he 
would  dash  out  his  brains! 


i 


•8 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


Amidst  the  confusion  and  terrors  of  the  scene 
Horace  yet  retained  his  self-possession  sufficiently 
to  notice  that  none  6f  the  bandits  kept  any  of  the 
plunder,  but  that  they  placed  it  together  in  the 
heap  before  mentioned,  i  robably  with  a  view  to 
division.  The  word  •  ♦  Matteo"  was  also  occasionally 
heard  amid  the  tumult  o.  voices,  and  presently  every 
eye  was  turned  in  one  direction,  whence  came  a 
crashing  sound  as  if  some  one  were  forcing  his  way 
through  the  brushwood.  Mrs.  Cleveland  had  sunk 
on  the  ground,  Horace  was  kneeling  beside  her, 
half  supporting  her  drooping  form,  when  there 
strode  into  the  dimly  lighted  space  the  tall  figure  of 
the  chief  of  the  banditti. 

Matteo  was  a  large  and  powerful  man,  with  a 
countenance  on  which  the  character  of  ruffianism 
was  so  legibly  stamped,  that  had  he  appeared  in 
gentlemen's  society  under  whatever  auspices,  with 
whatever  name,  or  in  whatever  dress,  a  child  would 
have  instinctively  shrunk  from  him,  and  a  stran- 
ger's first  thought  have  been : 

"There  is  one  whom  I  would  rather  not  meet 
alone  at  night  in  a  solitary  place." 

Grizzled  was  the  shock  of  coarse  hair  thrown 
back  from  his  dark  face,— grizzled  the  untrimmed 
beard;  but  his  thick  beetling  brows  were  intensely 
black,  and  almost  joined  together  in  one.  The  most 
repulsive  feature  was  the  mouth,  of  which  the  lower 
jaw  projected,  and  which  was  furnished  with  teeth 
so  irregular  and  large,  that  they  suggested  the  idea 
of  the  fangs  of  some  beast  of  prey.  The  alarm  of 
Mrs.  Cleveland  increased  when  the  light  fell  on  the 
countenance  of  the  man  in  whose  power  she  knew 
herself  to  be.  Clasping  her  hands  she  gasped  forth 
in  broken  Italian: 

*'0h,  mercy— we  will  pay  ransom— we  will  give 

anything— only  spare  me  and  my  son!" 

^^  **Ransom!''  repeated  Matteo  in  a  hoarse  voice, 

we  want  from  you  something  more  than  money'' 

and   turning  sharply  round  to  one    of    his    com- 


SEPARATION. 


»9 


inquired,     ♦'Has   not    the    Rossignol 


panions    he 
returned?" 

*'Not  yet  ••  replied  the  young  man  addressed 
who  though  seemingly  several  years  older  than  Ral 
phael,  bore  so  strong  a  likeness  to  him,  that  the  first 
impression  of  the  bewildered  travelers  had  been 
that  the  musician  whose  warning  they  had  nez- 

InTt'jf  "^^^"^  ^i"^^  ^^^  ^^^^  ^^^^"d  at  the  mtfe 
t?™  nJ?"  '"""^  !f'^?^®  "'^^"s  overtaken  the  car- 
nage. The  second  glance  at  Enrico  had  however 
quite  removed  such  impression.  The  cast  of  the 
features  might  be  alike,-there  might  be  the  same 
classical  outline,  the  same  delicately  penciled  brow 
—but  the  expression  of  the  face  was  utterly  disl 

wi?i  rJi;ii°??'^''^J.^J  i^^?  thoughtfulness,  tinged 
with  melancholy,  which  had  struck  Mrs.  Cleveland 
in  the  improvisatore,  there  was  a  restless  wildness 

Lni±f  ^T^  "'^^'^  ^y^'  ^^^«  that  of  a  hunted 
animal,  and  a  nervous  twitch  in  his  lip  peculiarly 
apparent  whenever  he  was  addressed  b/Matteo.  ^ 
Why  has  he  not  returned?"  crowled  Matten- 
••and  why  did  he  go  at  all?"  K^^wiea   Matteo, 

••He  went  for  tidings  of  your  son,  and  he  has  not 
had  time  to  return, "  was  the  answer. 

If  he  play  me  false,"  commenced  the  brigand  — 
femeicf.     '       ''  ^^°^'  insteLloi  complednghis 

would^,.^f  w  P^^^^^  y'^".  '^^'®'  ^^  these  birds 
would  not  be  in  your  net,"  cried  Enrico  as  h^ 
pomted  to  Horace  and  his  mother  '        ^ 

si^al-^'lh}  T^T  ^°"^Pr^hended  that  "the  Ros- 
signol     (the  Italian  word  for  •'nightingale")  must 
bea  cant  name  for  Raphael;  and  that  the  muSn 
whatever  might  have  been  his  motive  in  uttering 
by  d!Sn    so  ^^^°'"^'  ^^^^  ^^^®  incurred  some  risk 

o«?i^!"®i°  "^w  turned  again  towards  his  captives 
and  spoke  as  follows  to  the  trembling  lady,  usine 
.i^i!5.*  gff  culation,  and  giving  em|hasis^o  h^ 
speech  with  the  action  of  hand  and  foot  :=- 


so 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVB. 


You  know,  or  you  do  not  know,  that  the  does  oi 
soldiers  have  seized  my  son ;  that  they  have  dragged 
him  off  to  a  dungeon;  that  the  sentence  of  a  tvran- 
^lut^l^^S  "^^y.condejnn  him,  as  it  has  condemned 
other  bold  spirits  before  him.     You  are  rich-   a 
^«i  i^u'T  °P®"s  all  doors-ay,  even  the  barred 
and  bolted  gate  of  a  prison!     You  shall  write  to 
«ie  government.     You  shall  say  that  you  are  in 
«w®°  ^  5t"^''  ^r*  Matteo's  mercy.     You  shall  tell 
rv.»ti  ^^"^!^l°"«  ^.,«ffer.      If  Otto  be  set  free  you 
S ^*®^^^?^^'J^  *^^y  ^"^*  a  ^air  of  his  head" 
--Matteo  half  unsheathed  his  stiletto,  and  the  gleam 
of  the  cold  blue   steel   spoke  more  forcibly   than 
worcis. 

-f^eo®""®  *^^'**^^  "^®  '"  w"ting,"  suggested  Enrico; 
these  people  are  strangers -foreigners -a  mere 
♦  I  *if  ^.^'T?  aside— ^lood  is  spilt  while  officials 
take  their  drive  or  their  siesta.*  Let  one  of 
the  prisoners  go,  knowing  that  the  life  of  the 
other  hangs  on  the  issue,  and  the  dullest  employ^ 
will  be  made  to   hear,    the   slowest  to    act;  ^old 

riin  '^  ^'■^^^^'  ^"^  ^"^  ^^  ^  ^'^^  "'^^ 

Mrs.  Cleveland  glanced  anxiously  from  one 
speaker  to  the  other,  unable  to  catch  the  whole  of 
their  meaning,  but  understanding  in  a  general  way 
the  nature  of  a  discussion  in  which  she  was  so 
deeply  concerned. 

"Right!   right!"  exclaimed  the  robber.     "We'll 
keep  the  lady  and  send  off  the  boy." 
^    ••No!"   exclaimed  Horace,   starting  to  his  feet; 
if  a  prisoner  must  remain  in  your  hands,  keep  me 
and  release  my  mother. "  ^ 

J\?^jJ^^ ^^^^^'  «^y  child!"  cried  the  lady,  ♦'never 
shall  they  part  us— never!"  and  she  stretched  out 
her  clasped  hands  to  Matteo  in  an  attitude  of  aeo- 
nizing  entreaty.  * 

«,'!'"  ^?^  >^f^"  growled  the  brigand;  "she  is  a 
mother,  she  will  not  spare  cries  or  tears  to  wring 

The  noonday  sleep  which  Italians  habitually  take. 


SEPARATION. 


31 

mercy  out  of  the  merciless.  Hear  me,  woman '"  he 
con  mued  ma  louder  tone,  to  the  tremS  suddH 

Swer'"and\wd7''^°"  ^^^"  ^^  *°  tho^VigS^  L 
J^,7r  «n„  P  / ^  ^°'"  "^y  ^°°  *«  yo^  would  plead  for 
your  son;  and  pour  out  your  gold  to  those  Jh^i 
never  yet  refused  gold,  yeaf  if  itle^e  the  last  duc^? 
which  you  possessed  to  keep  you  from  beggary  H 
Otto  be  standing  here  in  three  days-"   ^^  ^" 

rico  ••von'^t^o  -'^  "°*  enough,"  interrupted  En- 
nco,  you  require  an  impossibility;  aoDlication 
may  have  to  be  made  to  Naples,  to^the Tng  h/Sl 

"Ay,  ay  "  said  the  brigand  impatiently  ♦'Naoleq 

needed,  even  though  love  and  fear  alike  give  winjrs 
If,  woman,  in  seven  days  my  son  be  standTng  he% 
free  and  uninjured,"  Matteo  stamped  on  ?he  /round 

Tes^orll  Ulr^''^  laninjured  Wll  your  Ion  Se 
restored;  if  there  be  an  hour's  delay"_Matteo 
uttered  with  an  oath  some  threat  which  the  ladv 
^^A  "''i  ""^«^«tand.  but  of  its  horrible  nature  she 
&' bv^'h^J'^  '7  '^r  ^''''''^  °^  ^^^^  who  made 
f^olhtrsol'"^^  P'^'^^'^  ^^^^^  °^«^«P^^-d  the 

••Never  mtn7^^*i°^^  ^^  ^^^^  «^«  exclaimed, 
had    bitter   «o;  "^^^^^'I/*  ^^  something  that  you 
naa    oetter   not    understand.       You    know    miifA 

Horace  spake  less  distinctly  than  usual  and  even 
his  lips  looked  bloodless  and  white 

Matteo  turned  to  the  heap  of  plunder      "Is  everv 
thing  here?"  he  sternly  inqSired^  ^'  ^''*'^^- 

everything,"  promptly  replied  several  voices 
fJ^    J"?^^;^   P°^"'^^  t^   J^<=omo.      ••Make    that 
anfZi^^A  ^^  'V""'  again,- he  said,  "and  drive  as 
Wk^tofhTS  ^°'  ^'\^^^'      '^^'^'^  the  woman 


III 
ill 
j| 

I 


3« 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


Tutla^n^^^  ^}^^^T  P^®  ^^^^^  were  instanUy  laid  on 

were  S'r^??^-'  Y  !^%  '^"^^  ^^  h^r  son  ir^  it 
were  to  death  instead  of  to  liberty  and  safety  that 
she  was  to  be  hurried.  In  that  moment  of  terror 
and  anguiEh  all  his  faults  and  her  own  perils  Wl?e 
ToTarherTif  T""''  '^""^^'  only  ofTer  chfld 

"Mother  dear,  don't  give  way  like  this.  '  There's 
no  nse  resistmg,  no  use  entreating.  We  may  vet 
meet  agam  All  may  be  well.  Don't  youVve 
these  wretches  an  excuse  for  treating  you  roughfyT-^ 
and  as  he  uttered  these  broken  sentences  Horace 
U^Li^'^'Y  ^r^"^^  ^°  ""^^^««  t^°««  cl^ging  arms 

Lltore  Mr,^'n^"'l  ^V^'''  ^.°^^^  '^^'  the  rob! 
W  crv  ««  .1  Cleveland  away  from  her  boy,  and 
her  cry  as  they  were  severed  rang  in  the  ears  of 
Horace  like  a  death-knell.  He  had  a  terrible  per 
8ua«,on  at  that  moment  that  he  was  parted  from^hls 
mother  never  to  see  her  again.     A  crowd  of  recdlec! 

ness  that  he  had  been  a  self-willed,  undutiful  son- 
that  his  conduct  had  caused  all  this  miserj"  that  he " 

vet  tter.'''  *^  '"H^^'^  ^°"  ^  thousand  faults,  and 
yet  that  his  tongue  had  no  power  to  ask  it.  Horace 
saw  his  mother  dragged  to  the  carriage,  and  rather 
thrown  than  lifted  into  it.     From  he?  silence  after 

f»«LT  '''^'  5^  ^^"^^^^  t^^t  ^^^  s««ses  niust  have 
failed  her,  and  was  almost  thankful  for  that  belief 

th?«^7»,»/*'^^''  ?"^®  ''''^  °^  t^^  ^°^s^s  with  some! 
thing  that  made  it,  weary  as  it  was,  bound  forward 

T^JZ^  ^S?''"  T^'"'."  '^^'  J^^^"^«  was  almost 

unseated.     His  exclamation  of  terror  raised  hoarse 

aughter  from  the   lawless  band,  and  before  ?hat 

3.T. J"^-  ^^^'^^  ??  'l'"^^^  ^^th  its  gleaming 
It^S   Si  .^^sappeared  in  the  darkness,  and  HoracI 


ROUGK  COMPANY. 


$3 


CHAPTER  V. 
ROUGH  COMPANY. 

ano'therto'Homce''arthS°[r  ,°^^?«^ering  than 
pang  of  remorse  -despair  of  Ivlr  ?  ^°"''  '^  ^^«  th« 
"P  by  devotion  in  tL  f utnrl%  ^^'"^^  ^^^^  ^° '"ake 
dfsobedience  in  the  oast  nif,  ^°J  ^"^^^titude  and 
self-willed  would  antk  pate  th,^  the  selfish  and 
ration  from  one  ^:^hos!tn6er  tTJ  1^''''^ ''^''' 
throwing  away  as  a  worthless  ti^!  ^^J  ^''^  "^^ 
reproofs  theyihafe  for  whni /«  ^.'  ^""^^^  ^^ose 
no  indulgence'    At, W^®  infirmities  they  have 

in  vain  wlh  that  by  \he  TotI  T'  ^^^"  ^^^^  ^^^ 
session  th^v  could  niirMTo  °^  ®^®^y  earthly  pos- 

one  fond -Word  IrSmfhriroT'^'""  *"*«'«'' 
parent.  "®  "P^  ^^   a  now  neglected 

the  irons?"  he  said.  ^"®°-      -^^^  any  one  brought 

onTil^^rotTanX^^^^^ 

which  had,  probab Iv  L  c     ^^^^^^^s,  red  with  rust 

worn  by  one^o7  the  Lnd  m'  /.'"'°^".  P^"^^'  ^een 
coarse  finger  to  Horace-la  Jf^« -f  P°^"*^^  ^^th  his 
required  no  explanatfon  a  c^.?^?^°*  ^^tion  which 
fastened  over  the  s  end.r  u?^  ^^tters  were  being 
chief  bade  Enricrtake  c  W^^  thf 

whose  safety  he  should  answefw°th£f/"'°''^''  ^^^ 
Then  follow«»H    o    ..  ..^^^  witn  his  own. 

Cleveland's Sng-cl^^andde.''^  'r''  ^rs. 
with  a  dagger-the^contems  of  W  "'"  ^""''^^  °P^" 
out,  the  various  articles  of  li^r  ?  P"""'*^  ^^""ted 
separate  heaps.  Reserving  .f  ^""Sgage  placed  in 
himself.  Matteo  distrihnyiH^t,-^"?"''  ^^^  the  gold  for 
robbers  looS  d Lconte^^^^^^  ^^«t  of  the 

utter  a  murmur    TJj^i^^i'l'.rf  .°^-  dared  to 

.aw  ^lui  uuier  emotion 


ii 


34 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


his  mother's  most  valued  trinkets  in  these  rude 
hands;  the  Maltese  cross  which  he  himself  had 
given,  the  mourning  brooch  with  his  father's  hair, 
nay,  the  very  wedding-ring  which  had  united  his 
parents,  were  profaned  by  the  touch  of  fingers 
which  might  be  stained  with  murder.  These  papers, 
some  of  them  priceless  to  her  who  had  once  owned 
them,  were  thrown  away  or  trampled  under  foot 

Matteo  beckoned  Enrico  to  some  little  distance, 
apparently  to  give  him  some  orders,  and  their 
departure  seemed  to  be  the  signal  for  more  unre- 
strained and  lawless  mirth.  Then  also  the  murmurs 
which  had  been  checked  by  the  presence  of  the 
dreaded  chief  broke  out  amongst  such  of  the  band 
as  had  been  disappointed  in  their  share  of  the 
plunder. 

"What  am  I  to  make  of  trumpery  like  this?" 
exclaimed  one  robber,  holding  up  to  view  with  great 
contempt  a  silver  gray  cloak  with  '  hood,  a  black 
gown,  a  lace-trimmed  parasol,  and  fan! 
His  appeal  was  answered  by  a  roar  of  laughter. 
"You  may  set  up  for  a  gentlewoman,  Beppo!" 
shouted  one. 

"My  share  matches  yours,"  laughed  another, 
*  you've  the  dress,  and  I've  the  dressing-case!" 

"Ay,  with  silver  tops  to  all  the  bottles,"  growled 
Beppo.   "I'll  make  an  exchange  if  you  will." 

The  offer  was  only  received  with  a  louder  burst  of 
merriment,  and  the  disappointed  Beppo  turned 
fiercely  towards  Horace. 

"Here's  a  garment  more  to  my  mind!"  he  cried, 
and  flinging  down  his  bundle  of  woman's  clothes, 
the  robber  seized  hold  of  the  indignant  and  strug- 
gling  captive,  and  by  force  dispossessed  him  of  his 
coat. 

The  gang  gathered  around,  much  amused  at  the 
scene,  laughing  uproariously  at  the  vain  passionate 
resistance  of  Horace. 

"There's  more  peel  on  the  orange!"  cried  one, 
And  the  young  captive  might  have  had  to  submit  to 


ROUGH  COMPANY. 

further  indigni;"?";;;^;^^;;^^^;;;;-;^;;;; 

his  large,  coarse  foot  he  added  wif*.      P^^^ngT  out 

eyesr^Lfat^d  Enric?  "  ^'"'^  ^^^^  ^^^-^e  ^is 
it  XTroih^rot?/,!^^^^^^^  "don't  con,e 

lunatic  in  a  family  iy  I  ••  ^"^     ^'^  ^^""^  °°« 

tou'^ied'^lJoSc^^^^^^^^  sToulder'  ^'.VT ^^'  ^«"- 
with  him;  whichThe  vouth  w.5^"^^^^^  ^'"^  ^ome 
-it  being  an  unutteraht  fiw^y®^°"^^todo 
removed,  i ven  for  a  s Wf  I?  ^^?^  ***  ^^«  *«  ^e 
of  the  rest  ofthe  Lwless  Li"^^'  S°"^  *^^  ^^^^P^ny 
tive  into  the  de^pZllttot^^^  ^^^  ^^«  ^^P" 
find  his  way  by  insHnS  . i?  *^t  '^?°^'  seeming  to 
which  shinfng  /reflfes'L^t^^^^     t^J^  darkness^  in 

envied  them  thefr    ibe?  v     H.  ""^  ^tl^^'  •  ^^^^^^ 
culty  and  pain      Hi«  fll^     "®  ^^^^^^  with   diffi- 

movements^but  c^aL  hff  .""SJ  ««lyjmpeded  his 
over  the  inequalities  of  fhl  ^°^^^'.-  ^®  stumbled 
branches  which  l^^couMnft'sL^'  struck  against 
caught  and  entanffledTn  bramW.^'  5\^  ^'^  ^^ain 
inclined  to  throw  himself  Xw^^^^^  ^^^^"  ^^^^ 

utter  despair  of  geUW  on  Fn.?"  ^^®.  F^""^  in 
nor  appeared  to  not  cf  hf^  ..f^'^°  °®^^^^^  Pitied 
him  on^through  the  tliTckel    '"^^""^«'  ^ut  hurried 

strong^y^llh^ToT^^^^^^^^^^  ^««-.  gasped 

the  watch  for  landmarks  anfl^f?^'  ^1^  eagerly  on 
the  darkness  to  fin^som^^L'i'^^l"^?.  his  eyes  in 
water,  and  the  occasional  o-i,-  "PP^ng^  sound  of 
through  the  treeToTwht  fppTaredtot'^  f"^'^* 
seemed  to  supply  somethiLX  /I, -^^  ?,!^/f  ^"^' 

,j. j^«.x*v.    iiia  nope 


3« 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


strengthened  as  the  noise  increased  so  greatly  that 
Horace  felt  certain  that  they  were  approaching  a 
cataract  plunging  down  the  side  of  the  mountain; 
the  roar  of  waters  could  not  be  mistaken,  though 
nothing  was  visible  to  the  eye.  Before  Enrico 
reached  what  must  be  the  head  of  the  fall,  he 
turned  sharply  round  to  the  left,  and  grasping  his 
captive  by  the  wrist,  made  him  follow  in  the  same 
direction. 

**Is  there  not  a  cataract  yonder?"  asked  Horace; 
It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  addressed  his  jailer.' 
'Sheer  two  hundred  feet  over  the  rocks,"  was  the 
reply;  "we  call  it  'Cascata  della  Morte  (the  death 
fall),'  for  a  miserable  wretch  was  once  whirled  over 
the  edge." 
•'And  perished?"  inquired  Horace. 
••As  surely,"  answered  Enrico,  "as  if  he  had  fluag 
himself  from  the  top  of  St.  Peter's  or  down  into  the 
crater  of  Vesuvius.     The  remains,  when  recovered 
from  the  stream   in   the    valley   yonder,   scarcely 
retained  semblance  of  the  human  form." 

Horace  hardly  paid  attention  to  the  concluding 
words,  he  was  so  carefully  surveying  the  path  before 
him.  He  had  left  the  thick  wood  behind  him,  and 
had  now  to  pass  along  a  ledge  of  rock,  which  seemed 
like  a  shelf  jutting  out  of  the  mountain,  and  which 
overhung  a  precipice  of  whose  depth  there  was  not 
sufficient  light  to  enable  him  to  judge.  To  Horace 
a  vast  chasm  of  darkness  appeared  to  spread  to  the 
right.  Here  Enrico  and  his  prisoner  were  chal- 
lenged  by  a  robber  who  had  been  left  as  a  sentinel 
to  guard  this  dangerous  post. 

••Chi  va  m?"  (Who  goes  there?)  cried  the  man. 
Ennco  gave  the  word  "Morte,"  and  passed  on  with 
his  captive. 

•'I  think  that  I  might  possibly  find  my  way  back 

from  hence  to  the  high  road,"   thought    Horace, 

with  the  sound  of  the  water  to  guide  me,  were  I 

only  freed  from  these  shackles.     But  if  a  sentinel 

be  always  placed  here  on  the  watch,  it  would  render 


i 


ROUGH  CCvXPANY.  -7 

the  brain  dh^tomTot'-     ^'^'^'  *»'  '' »'"'« 

thfpS^b"e°c:^ft ^:™tS^at*e'th'r|J>  »^  »«- 
lost  all  idea  even  nf  thl  "..'"'^'e  *?««  Horace  soon 

going,  an  oVe  b?whict  he Sffii",  t^'"^  ^'  "« 
The  path  was  sdWch  tane^d^wlh  i""!."  '!"'l  ^'"'^■ 
progress  of  Enrico  and  hS'lrf^*  *'<='=«*.  *at  the 
sarily  very  slow  and  H„,l„/  v  ^^<^^'^e  neces- 

exhausted^  but  despairing*  rf""  """*'"*. »"»  °°'y 
a  word  had  been  excha„"^ed  t^  '?i"*  •'■"«  ^'""^e 
through  the  brushwood TnA.^  ?l  '^^^  «°"«d  O" 
complnion:  °™'''"°'"''  E°no°  said  abruptly  to  his 

yoZelf  "^^  °°*  .^"  ""»"  f""  "o,  for  I  like 

Ioorfai,?^\|^"„tsT„"oS?-  •"^'«''«'  "^^  °f 
and  died  in'^he  se^ce^f  rhllLg""'"^  "^'"  *"">•• 

which  you  drag  so'^^earilyXng"-  "*"'"  "'"°  '"« 
Ihere  was  extreme  bitternes^if  *!,.» 

th^Ve^^^e^fn-t  S°o;£"  '^  -&"Kt":? 

around.  Horace  was  anxtnf*;f  *^f  wandering 
tainty  whether  RaphLrwere  theTr.^'".'"  \"=^"- 
reference  had  been  mtdp  „„^  .  ^    ^"'}^"  '°  "horn 

of  as  "the  Ros^g^^r.?t't\°e\t°a?rfid'S  d^^ 

second  warning  in'thS'la^g^a^i"'^'  "^^  "''"'^  "^ 

robb^:?;  "  "  ''""'y  "■^'  I^^-idr  answered  the 

Foiled  in  his  first  attemut  to  ..»,„  ;„, .=._ 


38 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


Horace  made  another.  "Why  did  that  fellow  call 
your  brother  a  lunatic?"  said  he. 
^^  ''Because  he  is  one!"  replied  Enrico  impatiently 
none  but  a  madman  would  be  always  putting  his 
head  mto  the  lion's  mouth,  certain  that  it  must  be 
bitten  off  at  last!" 
•|Does  he  belong  to  the  band?"  asked  Horace. 

Yes— no—what  is  it  to  you?"  cried  Enrico. 
This  rebuff  put  an  end  to  the  conversation,  though 
It  mcreased  the  desire  of  Horace  to  know  more  of 
the  mystenous  Raphael;  for  he  was  now  certain 
that  the  stranger  at  the  door  of  the  inn  was  the 
brother  of  the  bandit  Enrico. 

At  length  the  long  tangled  forest  was  passed,  and 
the  way  opened  on  a  rocky  space,  where,  by  the  faint 
star-light,  no  longer  hidden  by  foliage,  Horace  saw 
a  bold,  partially-wooded  cliff  rising  before  them  a 
gigantic  mass  of  gloomy  shade.  Horace  had  little 
?i*P5''^*?"'i^'  however,  of  remarking  anything  but 
the  difficulty  of  the  ascent,  as  progression  here  took 
the  character  of  climbing,  which  the  fetters  on  his 
hmos  riiade  a  terrible  effort. 

"It  is  impo  sible  for  me  to  get  up,  chained  as  I 
am!  exclaimed  Horace,  after  having  rubbed  the 
skin  irom  one  of  his  ankles,  in  a  vain  attempt  to 
raise  himself  to  a  platform  of  rock. 

MmpoL3ibl8!"  echoed  Enrico,  with  ashort,  mock- 
ing lo  ugh;  '  It  must  be  done,  and  the  sooner  the 
better,  or  Matteo  will  be  here  to  quicken  your  move- 
ments  with  the  point  of  his  stiletto. " 

Once  again  Horace  tried  to  get  up,  the  moisture 
dewmg  his  hp  and  brow,  both  from  the  pain  and  the 
exertion;  but  cumbered  as  he  was  with  his  shackles 
he  could  not  succeed.  Then  Enrico,  growing  impa> 
tient,  lent  a  strong  hand  to  help  him.  Even  with 
tms  assistance  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that 
the  suffering  youth  reached  the  platform.  He 
stopped  for  some  moments  to  recover  his  breath 
and  to  wipe  his  heated  temples,  * 

•'Could  you  find  your  way  back?"  said  Enrico. 


i 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


39 


!!mj®  ""^^^  s®?°^  to  me  to  be  a  perfect  labyrinth." 
•scaper  '^  ''''  *'^^''^®  ''^  ^°''''  attempting  an 

"I    fear   that  I  have  more  will  than  power  to 
escape,     replied  the  young  captive  with  a  sigh. 

Do  you  know  what  would  follow  your  making 
any  such  attempt?"  ^        i"«iKrag 

••Perhaps—"  began  Horace. 

..nJrt*  ff,"fe<^ly.'' interrupted  Enrico.  "I  should 
send  a  bullet  through  your  head  " 

Jf,l^'tif^"^ii'"'"'^  ^^  ^®  ^'^"^  himself,  is  not  much 
Horace      ""  ''^'*'     ""^^  ^^^  silent  reflection  of 

A  few  more  steps,  and  the  two  had  reached  the 
mo«  S  ''Lu'^V^A^^'''}'  ^^"^""^^  *"  ^^^  mountain,  its 
which  abounded  as  a  weed  in  this  place.  Ho-ace 
was  g  ad  to  have  arrived  at  his  destinat  on  what! 
ever  ^t  might  be,  for  he  felt  that  he  could  not  for 
many  minutes  more  have  endured  the  exhausting 
effort  of  dragging  his  fettered  feet  over  the  rocks. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 

Enrico  followed  by  his  prisoner,  groped  his  wav 
though  the  cave,  and  then  along  'a  passage  in  The 
rock  too  low  to  admit  of  thei?  standing^  upright 
The  dampness  of  the  air,  the  darkness  of  the  plfce 
made  the  unhappy  Horace  feel  as  though  he  were 

f„/o  """^  ^  *°'"^'  ^^^y  «°°"'  ^ow«^«r»  emerged 
mto  a  very  spacious  cavern  of  irregular  shaoe  at 
one  side  of  which  was  some  light.  This  ligSt '  as 
Horace  soon  perceived,  came  from  two  wax  tapers 
burning  m  front  of  an  image  of  the  Virgin  The 
feeble  gleam  sensed  only  to  make  "darkness  visible  " 

fni  h«f  rifi^  ^*  ^^^  ^""r^^^  "°°^  °^  t^«  <^ave»  and  show. 

ing  but  little  even  of  i>c  hr/».,«  -, a  L^it     ^. 

.--___  —  „.^„»,  xug^cu  wan.      i"fle 


40 


'HE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


11 
11 


in  circling  flights,  seeming   to    Horace's   f^vt^n^A 
imagination  like  spirits  of  evil  haunting  the  r?bW 

"^  wV  ^l^   .y°"*^   ^^^ched  with  curiosity  to  s^ 
whether  Enrico  would  cross  himself  or?ow  on  oas^ 

^eU'r^dTpfn  :?L?^^^^  '''  -^^^-'  ^^^  P^i-- 

he^^t S^^      ^hTshX^^^^  ^°  ^^^  '^^  ^-'" 
^  Why  so?"  asked  his  companion. 
Because  •'  answered  Horace,  trying  to  out  hi« 

thought  Matteo  A  man  to  care  for  religion. " 
saidPnH..    '^'q^''^  ^^"^^  y°^  know  about  him," 
win  go  to  a  X.     friar  for  masses,  that  the  rest  mav 
be  enjoyed  with  an  easy  conscience;   and  thou^J 
Matteo  has  not  scrupled  >  to  rob  a  traveler  on  ?h£ 

ca:rLShi:;if  rr?^  «^^^^^'  "^^^^  ^  -- 

"None  of  that  talk  here,"  cried  Enrico  v^ifh  « 
gesture  of  irritation;  ''we  have  more  of  it 'thTn  we 
l»J^e,  and  will  never  stand  it  from  you'" 

From  whom  r^w  they  hear  it?' '  thought  the  aston 

Suth  f^'^T^  r^^""  ^?^^^  ^^  kittle  elpec?  to  hea; 
truth  as  to  find  honesty  in  a  den  like  this'" 

linnco  now  lighted  a  torch  which  was  fksteni»rl  i« 
the  rock  a  few  feet  above  a  long  loTtable  whic? 
Horace  now  for  the  first  time  perceived,  and  whkh 
with  the  rude  benches  on  each  side  of  it  seemed  to 
form  all  the  furniture  of  the  place.  On  it  weJe 
ranged  sundry  flagons,  bottles  of  wine,  and  oTher 
preparations  for  a  meal.  '  "^®^ 

•  'I  suppose  that  while  you  are  our  prisoner  you  will 
partake  of  our  fare,"  said  Enrico.^  "TOl  yoS  Sn 
our  jovial  party  at  supper  to-night,  or  shal   I  at  once 
introduce  you  to  the  luxuries  l{  iur  private  ao^rt 
ment-the  elegant  chamber  which  yoHre  to  sha4' 


i\ 


Dd 
ed 
rs* 
ee 
;s- 
er 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


IS 
re 


. 41 

Td^^^^S^  "^^  brother?"    Enrico's  tone  was  satir 
smile  "^  there  was  indescribable  bittemeTin  hL" 

2ore'l?o'Horac\^^^^^  ^^  ^°^^-  ^-.  -d  IXue 
steps  brought'S't^S'^^  rte^ss  Tfh"/  '."'^  f  ^2^ 
c^ve^^out  ten  feet  abov^e  ZZo^ ^^^ ^^^.^^^ 

no^T'si^hfthat^  'o'inV*  rf  'S^^i  .^^  ^^^^"^  ^^^ 
r;^---^^^^^^^^^^  aware 

"As  the  I    ssignol  has  not  returned  "  saiH  v^^.^ 
you  may  take  possession  of  his  S^  *   t        Enrico, 

quet. ••  '  ^*  ^^  ^®^°w  t°  prepare  the  ban- 

What  fearful  tales  of  crimA  »n;ori,«.  ^iT    "••    f"  ^P^^k, 


!• 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


his  limbs.  "There  would  be  none  to  lift  a  hand  or 
to  speak  a  word  in  my  defence;  no  nor  to  feel  ni?v 

E^eJTt^hirEn'ricfrif"^^  '  might  U?  Jo  enlu^l^ 
thin  thi  r^r.  '  "^15°  f  ^"'^  somewhat  less  brutal 
iofiL  *l^®®''  ^°^^^  shoot  me  dead  on  the  soot 
rather  than  suffer  his  captive  to  escape.     Oh  my 

SSh  "^J  P°°'    r'^^^'    h^^    little    you    e^er 

Thi^  1?°'"''  '''''  ^""^  ^°  s^^h  ^  situation  as  thijr' 

remembe?  h?r  '^''l^\^  ^^'  ^^^^  ^^^^e  he  could 

sft  at  n^  Jht^  P^f'^  k'  i'^?.  ^^^"  w<^"t  to  come  and 

hair  ani^^Iiu^.^u.^^^-"^^^'  st^°^«  back  his  curly 
hair,  and  talk  to  him  of  holy  thine-s  and  t^ll  S- 

once  a  pleasure  to  both,  had  within  the  Lt  vel; 
^nST  ^  T'^  ^^  painful  feeling  between  Horace 

dSbS  frn.i  V  ^i^'^'^^'  '*  ^^^  annoyed  him  to  be 
oisturbed  from  his  desk  or 'some  interesting  book  bv 

h^^?•5'r'^°^  ^?'  "^°th«^  at  her  re^a?  hour  i-to 
be  chidden  for  sitting  up  late,  or  warn-^d Tf '  the 
danger  of  fire.     Horace  had  become  To  SpatLnt  of 

i/h«H  "^^i*'?'  *^^  ^^P^°°^  and  the  warning  that 
he  had  at  last  actually  locked  his  door^  answer 

Sf  ?^aZK'  "^^^-^if^^"  withou7?u'rn?n|The 

v^ZIa^a  a  ^^'^-   .^^^-  Cleveland  had  been  deenlv 

Tt^^^f'  "°'^'^  ^^^^^y  ^"^ssed  how  deeply   C 

t  was  agony  now  upon  this  his  first  night  of  caotiv 

ty  to  recall  the  sound  of  her  step  in  the  nas^a^I' 

Slt^Z  s  en'ttif  ^^  •'good.nig'hf' and  TthTk 
inai  mat  step— that  voice—might  be  heard  bv  hi*;  ear 

wh^'^'t  Oh,  why  had  he  not  loved  Ser  better?!! 
o?o^iieto^de^a?p'^  "°^  ^'^^'^  ^^^-^  theXence 

waTnot'^onlvtlf  fir'?^".^^*"r^^^^"^^d  another;  it 
ha  A  il°i  o"7.^n  filial  piety  that  Horace  Cleveland 
had  fa  led;  his  neglect  had  not  been  only  towards 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


4J 

death    iJw'  ^^'"ake  tolerable   the  prospect  of 

assurance  hi's^^rr /*!/*••"'"•  ^^  th*  psalmist*s 
rny  life  of^hon.  sClIl ifafram" {'^.Z::il''S 

s,-  «,  wi,rs -^-,^4iH 

uresque  dress.  Horace  counted  eight  bandks" 
h^  ^fil?^  ^.".""°-  '^^«  ^^"  sat  noiny  down  at 
near  the  w^?"'^^^  ^°"^^  ^^^«^«  hadVe?r  seats 
Horace  th.T  hi'  ""f^  "^^"^  "^  immediately  under 
Horace  that  he  could  not  see  them,  without  stretch 
1  ig  his  head  so  far  forward  that  he  wouW  hTmse^; 
have  been  exposed  to  the  observation  oTthe  robberl 
which  he  anxiously  desired    to  avoid -but  whfv 

'iZ^TS  T^'^.  ^°"^^  °^  '^^  darkiiess  of  Ws  re^e  s 
Horace  had  full  view  of  Enrico  and  thr^l  ^f^^* 

1  Shall  not  enter  into  details  of  what— with  di«;Qr,i«f 
and  horror-Horace  saw  and  heard  on  that  nif?t 

s^tcS. z ^,j^ -,r.e.i,  £i?i 


U 


44 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


unseen  shouted  and  laughed  affain  PwZTTT^ 
aside  his  former  manner,  appeS  fn  h/lr, '  ^^^"«^ 
of  the  gay,  nlunp-inc-  7r  f^^?u     .    *°  °®  '^®  gayest 

mirth  as  thiugh  SI  sought?--'  ""'  °^  ""^^^^r 

all  remorse  ^  ^^'  '°  ^^°^°  ^>1  memory  and 

sou^r'of  profane  me't'  ^^^  f'r  ^'«  °^"  ^ars  the 

It  seemed  ^tf  l^^lo^^  h^r^^^^^ln'aV/f"'  ^\T°- 
spot  were  to  be  found  oifarThwinl^  '^°"®  ^^^^^ 
evil,  reigned  triumphant  S  7akh'J'''^'  """^'J^^ 
out,  where  heavenly  hooeTo»^      .     ^^^  "J'"'®  ^hut 

was  the  robberl-c^e  in^lhe  Je^?h  o^^ 
mountain!  P'*^  *^*  ^h®  Calabrian 

CHAPTER  VII. 
MUSIC  AND  MADNESS. 

Horace  looked  down  eaelrll  Ha  ''^^^Passage. 
form  of  Raphael,  a^L  came^or'^ fror^Ttl'^  f^^^^^ 
bearing  his  instrument  of  music  ^^^  ^^°°™» 

The  young  Calabrian  looked 'excepr1in„i. 
He  made  a  shVht  inclination  r.f*t,^,"S:ly  weary. 

towards  the  place  where  Hnr^      i?  ^^^^  °°  entering 
was;  he  theA  l?d  his  Lkar T  ^^^^^ 
and  sat  down  on  a  vafait  c^^.^l"'*-]^^  ^°^^y  wall 
Enrico.  *  ''^''^"^  ®^^^  Reside  his  brother 

"What  news  of  Otto?"  cried  Matter.  ,  i. 
irh^a^:&^^^-^  --^tet^yTs^r 

al^ILTre'actS  rou^'^JfptY^^^^^^^^^^^  -^^/^^^  ^-^ 
tones,  which  formed  Is  stron^^  ^^'  '°  ^°^''  ^^'^^^ 
discordant  sounds  which  had  ^rSi  ^'^^^^.f*  *°  ^^e 
appearance  did  to  that  of  hfl  ^  Prevailed,  as  his 
was.  as  you  know  coLeL^l  companions.  "He 
escoVt  towards  Si!^The/cetn?;  \  1*'^"^  "^^"^^^y 
He  had  not  been  a^Si  lSrmi^..^r^^^^^^^^^^^^  ^%{ 


MUSIC  AND  MADNESS. 


theXt/tto'  """''^''  '*«  »  «""•  t>""t  from 

One  of  the  robbers  replied  with  a  lauirli      • « q««, 
good  business  done  to-daV     Fnli,ck  J^  '~7  ^°^^ 
always  worth  the  plucking'    U  wi    tlT^^"''  ^'^ 

regarding  the  last  soeaker  wSL  i  ^""^  ^^^^""^y 
of  what  had  occurrS  was  -^iv^^  t  '^""I^  ^?^°"'^^ 
visatore  looked  relieved   fnrf V°  ^'""j  ^^?  ''"P^^^" 

heapmg  foorl  upon  a  trencher  whU  waXfore  rtS 
SS^lte'r\]^t:,i'™a.r  ""^  <'''°^  -^  °3rf^ 
away?""**'  ""^^  ^"  "*»''•  "»<'  P"*ed  the  trencher 
t^^^^-^  will  not  eat,  you  shall  sing  "  cried  Mat 
Wwe^/''f?L""^  "rtteVtuTt"^'^  ^  ^-^ 


!    11 


4« 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


exclaimed  Beppo.  ^    ^^^*^    ^°^    free!" 


XX  Hiaamans  th 
Ill-favored  robber  -     ►"« 

accept  iTyo^ZZ-it^''^'^'''-''^''''''-^  1 

like  the  tonesTf  a^angel's  haro     ?n  "    •'  '""""<■ 
other  noise  was  so  cnmn L,.T    f '  J".  *"  '"Stant  all 

could  hear  dSc^My  ,h7s,„w  Sw""'"/*  """  «»«" 

from  the  roof  of  C  cavl  T^eltr/n^r '''"j"'!l« 
robbers  deeoened  as    =ft„        ?  *"«"'"on  of  the 

Rossignol  S„  to  slir  V"""  P':^'"''*'  'he 
poured  forth  .^  a  wUd  a'f '  ori?i^%r*'""'""*  ™''^<= 
rapid  and  almost  gay  but  at^^^S^  ^"'  ^"T^'™" 
verse  endine  in  a  min^^  iT  i"*  "^'°''*  °f  «very 

deep  pathosVa"  ?h™r„n7ed'lt  T/i^^"'  ™^^ 
dead,  or  a  wail  for  the  lost  fij/"^t  'i""  "« 
listened  to  music  but  L  hiii  Horace  had  often 
such  music  as  this  t5  o?hl,  r*!^  ^^f""  heard 
song  a  charm,  ouMn  Raphael  it  wJ'/^  '"'  ^"*«' 

broolted  no  -^^^int  &^rlTof-scl?nt"' 

MADNESS. 
^  wt*"'®''®^  stood  by  a  rapid  stream 

Oh !  n^adman.  to  brea^k  love's  gofdenLk I 


MUSIC  AND  MADNESS. 


47 


On  a  hill  stood  a  poor  wayfaring  man. 

When  a  parchment  to  him  was  given 
By  which  he  was  proved  the  rightful  heir 
To  all  the  broad  region  before  Blm  there. 
The  wooded  valleys,  and  meadows  fair 

Bounded  but  by  the  arch  of  heaven. 

AnnTii  K*"'^'*''''''  l^a^lhe  the  parchment  tore. 

And  the  breezes  afar  the  fragnTents  bore. 

Oh !  madman,  that  wealth  can  be  thine  no  mora  I 

A  doomed  man  crouched  o'er  his  prison  firau 

His  heart  for  his  fate  he  steeled  • 
Already  he  heard  the  castle  bell  ' 
Boom  drearily  forth  his  dying  knell. 

•T»o- If  ^®  ^'i  *  '^^^^  ^"^^V  f«" ; 

n.J^  «   '^  pardon,  signed  ancTsealedf 
uut  he  flung  the  pardon  into  the  flame 
And  so  went  forth  to  a  death  of  shame! 
Uh!  madman,  well  hast  thou  earned  the  name! 

"Almost  as  well,"  exclaimed  Beppo.  "as  the 
rhymer  who  could  make  such  a  song !  Sint  to  us 
of  men  of  flesh  and  blood,  for  the  world  h^lds  no 
such  fools  as  those  in  your  ballad-they  be  more 

Thymesr   '^"'^  '^"  ^^°'''  ^^^  ^°^"°«  of  nur^er^ 
"For    the    matter    of    that,"    observed    Marco 
another  of  the  robbers,  "there's  many  a  proS  i 
wot  of,  has  thrown  his  father'^;  letter  away  " 

But  to  tear  a  deed  of  '  mce— throw  a  par- 

was  ^ver'vL'^ir-T""'-  ^  ^%^^^^'  ^°  improbrble 
was  ever  yet  said  or  sung.     Such  mad  freaks  as 

those  are  not  played  by  men  even  in  their  dreams^' 

wh,-l^''t.,-r2  ''''■^  ""^  *!?""  ^«^^^  t^«  Rossignol. 
while  his  fingers,  as  if  unconsciously,  wandered 
over  the  strings  or  his  guitar.  wanaerea 

.!i?  '^®  ^^"f  ended?"  said  Matteo. 
Not  ended— but  you  have  heard  enough  "  was 
the  answer  of  the  improvisatore.  ^  ' 

i>  ^!:f''^  ^u^^''  u^'V  ^"^^  *^®  c^^^f-  "Let's  hear 
It  out,"  echoed  the  bandits. 

Again  rose  the  rich,  full  tones,  but  with  deeoer 
emphasis,  more  thrilling  expression.  ^ 


I 


^^        THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 

^  W?ti?'5®"  amongst  us  live  and  dwell 
A  fS&r^c^^'"^"  amongst  us  die ; 
A  father  s  message  is  heard-foreof 

Men  wildhr  prefer  the  demon's^ot. 

A  wl^'^"T°'"  *«<i  "fe  on  high! 

A  king's  free  pardon— a  paren*'*  «♦»« 

Oh !  madmen,  to  cast  them  all  away ! 

head  of  the  speaker  a^T.  ?""'*'  *  •'"'"'J  «  ""e 
unwelcome  By  a  aiickmL  """!"»'  °"  »  "o"!  «> 
the  Wo  ™  Enrico^^W?H  I  *"■'  ^^^^'^  «™ided 
Rossigaol'laid  h°s  hfid  „;?  w/k'^.^*'  ,^«PP°:  ">e 
to  restrain  him  fror2xp?ess^n  ^,°^J'"^  "^'  «*  « 
out  taUin,  an.  other  l^^lViZf.^^  tt 

looked  down  u^Tfhem^'^ouM'h".''"!:  "    "-««« 
forapainter    Them?,^Vh  3     have  been  a  study 

upon  fts  variouJ SeaTer '     b1*  "'^  ^'""^"^  «««' 
with  passion,  while  over  that  Tw/f  "*=  ''"»''*^ 

TtSird'-r-a-'^'orkiSff^^^^^^^ 

made  a  vaTn  elfort'to'  conc^^,"'  ^^fT  ""ich  he 
have  been  drawn  at  a  vent,,™,  k  .  •  ^^  "'S'" 
barbed  arrow  was  «nk1?„"'  i"*^ '°  °°«  heart  the 
Rossignol  calm  Ld  tl~^\,  ^"^  *"*  ''"><">  'he 
scious^of  dangl"  b'S^rrd^l^litTLr  r""" 

»ud''d:?fjr;t?h'a",™''>^*"^ 

So-^^h^ssfrF-"^^^^^ 

brother,  and  conSed  1^.1°°^!^   "P^"  *^«  ^wo 
.    uu  contrasted  them  with  each  other,  he 


MUSIC  AND  MADNESS.  49 

allusion  to  the  sonc^  f ht?^-*  t:  T^^""®""'  ^«  ^^de  no 
only  be  gathered  ffim^^iS^^^  °^^"^^*^  ^^"^  <^0"ld 
his  tone:  ""  '^®  increased  savageness  of 

to  yourVe?^sr''°  ^''P""'"'     fountain-wolves,  away 

mom^Vtrnofsl^^a^rn^Sr^'^^^^^^^       ^-^  -  few 
wild  band  scattered  T^""-  P^^^.^'^ed.  and  as  the 

flashed  hithef  and  ti^h?rT^lf'T'i°"^'  *°^^^«« 
Horace  watched  the  retreat  n<xf^  hot  murky  air. 

the  light  which  hlta^edlhollT'^f  ^'^P^'  ^' 
of  the  cave  than  he  h^7u^^  snowed  a  deeper  recess 

glistening  stalLute's'l^a'n'g^^^^^^^^  -th 

when  he  turned  to  look  for  thlS  •  '^°,°^'  ^"^ 
that  he  had  disappeared  frnJu-  ^^.^^ignol,  found 
•bering  that  Saef  wl  .  ™  ,?'^  T.^'  Remem- 
chamfer,  Horace  awaiH  ll  '^^'^  ^^'  .°^"  ^^^7 
and  impktience      Twf       '^  ''''"''"fi^  ^^^^  interest 

stair  ofsucrthat^^^i^^htTe  'cat?  Tha?^  ^^"^5 

d^rkneL  Horace  Lew^nnfT^  T^'^^'  ^"^  ^^  the 
or  Enrico  The  comer  thr^^'^S-"  ^^rI^  ^^P^^el 
heap  of  leaves  noWar  ^f^^  ^""'^^^  ^°^"  ««  « 
im^^dning  the  camL  to  ^  ""i  "^'^^^'  «°^  either 
pro^ablef  forLttmL  mI  ^  ^^^^ep  or  (as  was  more 
Seavy  grUn'^s    ?1n  ^^^"^^^^^^  gave  a 

did  not  come  from  the  rossienlll  H?,?"  V''"'"?^^ 
for  some  time  perfect^  cf in^  r  !    ?^-     Ho^'ace  lay 


so 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  DASH  FOR  FREEDOM. 

nJrS^.r'"'"®''  ?°"^^ng  had  dawned,  and  thonirh 
no  direct  ray  could  ever  enter  the  inner  cave  S? 

fnt  tb^^^  '"'  '}^  ^"^^^^^°"  °^  pure  rosy  Wght  tin^." 
mg  the  rugged  stone,  hundreds  of  feet  above  hfm 

f  nS  V''''  'V"'  'J'^y  ^°°^.  ^hkh  appJared^; 
If  It  had  been  rent  asunder  by  the  shock  of  an  eIrtS 

?ve1';haf?f/f;'^^"^  ^°  *^«  captive°s  eye  was 
«iTn  «?  reflected  gleam,  which  showed  that  the 
sun  was  shining  upon  earth,  though  not  upon  him^ 

that  loftv'Sf ft  to7.  ^^?^'  *°  ^y  upwardrthrough 
mat  lofty  cleft  to  the  glorious  daylight  beyond 

aro^ndTim'^^N  f  .^  ^^"^'!J^*  °"  ^^  ^^^^^  and  looked 
hlT«i^T'  N°l  *w?  yards  from  the  spot  on  which 
he  rested  he  saw  the  kneeling  form  of  Raohael  who 

v.lfj^^i^^'^'u'^  e'^^^P'  ^^^  th«  q^iet  which  pre' 
Tut  hU';ra'ncld^  ^^^^  ^'^"^^  '^^*  ^^^  ^^y^^ 

his^kneef  anH  V^""-^  °^.  time  Raphael  arose  from 
hv  fho^^'  and  turning  towards  Horace  perceived 
by  the  dim  light  that  the  captive  was  awake. 

How    have    you    slept?"   he    asked  in  Italian 
addressing    Horace  in  the  third  person  singula?' 
Ev.'n'^lv  ^!  -^p^^^^S^"'  ^^  ^  *°^««  «f  respect^     ' 
to?h;^L^f^^tu*n^l^;7ouT'  °'  --^-ywL  grateful 


A  DASH  FOR  FREEDOM.  j, 

formed  a  simpte  bS  wher?vn^  ^nps  Nature  ha? 

the"p°Svf„Sr„Xha'd°Se^i:i!  "^'-^-^  »£ 

"rI^I'''  ^'«Wmo"me'm'wS"p\7/»"  "■"  ™ 
.   Raphael  saw  his  distre«      ••?  i      ^    "* 

it  isto  wear  such  ankfe?,/'  said  he"°"  '"°  **"  '*'"" 
Hor^S  ''""  "°*  '■•«  ■»«  fr°-»  tliemr  exclaimed 

you tt t&!.  f/^said^'^ti  "'  -■"«>'  f«e 
effects  less  pai"fuI-"Mdh.H  '<'*''  «°dertl,eir 
in  the  side  of  thi  r^u  ^'^57  f™™/  "ttie  hole 
which,  kneeling  doUhelt^nclh.*""^  ointment, 
the  captive's  si.  len  ankles  Th» ,  *^\"  'f.^PP'^  *» 
was  gentle  as  a  woman's  L/h  '""^h  of  his  hand 
for  the  relief  imputed  "°""  felt  grateful 

said^PT'"ne'£bVrfnrhi?iL'iV"'^'^''^-" 
"■•ftfe'not    ;*'  «'edoo;o?th''e'inr"""'«  """>"" 

But  you  will  be  mv  fnVn^  t  i 
trust  you!"  exclaimed  Horace  a^li'"^^*'-!  ^^^ 
ing  in  his  heart-  and  sniLif^^  '  ^"  ^^^^^  ^°Pe  aris- 
rapid  tone,  he  offered  ?he  Italf^  ^t^^''^' '"  ^  ^°^. 
a  thousand  ducat  -two-thte  ?f  ff "  ""T^^- 
him  in  effecting  his  esranl  !r  ^®  ^°"^d  a»d 
freedom  and  safety  ^^'  *°^  "°  ^^^'^re  him  to 

sad1;fn\1p?y""^^  ^^^  ^--«.  -^  shook  his  head 

a  ^^^'^^^^^^  ^e  to  rescue 

ruptlSl^l^p^l^^^^^^^^^^  to  death/'  inter- 

f;Matteo  woul/never-''  ^''P^'  ^^  his  side. 

vn„r«oi^?..^!!.^°^.«?  that  Enrico  shall  ^n««,.w^- 

"~  "^^^  *^i''^°^  ^'^'^^  ««  life;  MatteonevVrbiiaS 


1 


s» 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


such  a  vow,"  said  Raphael,  speaking  in  imperfect 
Enghsh. 

"But  he  cannot  be  such  a  ruffian  as  to  murder  his 
own  follower,"  pursued  Horace,  who  was  unwilling 
to  let  go  his  only  hope  of  escape. 

**He  would  do  it—nor  would  it  be  for  the  first 
time,"  said  Raphael,  his  face  darkening  with  some 
recollection  of  horr  r;  "it  was  not  by  the  hand  of 
soldier  or  executioner  that  Carlo  perished  in  the 
wood!" 

Horace  felt  the  blood  run  cold  in  his  veins,  yet 
his  intense  desire  for  freedom  made  him  once  more 
return  to  the  subject.  "If  Matteo  be  so  merciless  " 
he  said,  "how  dared  you  provoke  his  an^er  last 
night?" 

"I  had  my  message  to  give,  and  I  gave  it," 
replied  the  improvisatore ;  "he  who  builds  on  the 
brink  of  a  volcano  does  so  with  the  knowledge  that 
the  lava  may  one  day  overflow.  Yet  do  I  stand  on 
vantage  ground,  and  Matteo  would  bear  from  me 
what  he  would  bear  from  no  one  beside." 

•'Why  so?"  inquired  young  Cleveland. 

"He  has  an  old  wound  in  his  thigh,  which,  hav- 
ing been  imperfectly  healed,  has  broken  out  afresh. 
Having  gained,  when  I  was  very  young,  some  slight 
knowledge  of  surgery  from  my  grandfather,  I  am 
able  to  afford  him  such  aid  as  the  chief  would  be 
loath  to  lose.  Besides. "  continued  Raphael  "Mat- 
teo  has  a  passionate  love  for  melody,  the  one  soften- 
ing quahty  yet  left  him;  and  words  are  endured 
when  clothed  in  music  which,  without  it,  would  be 
perilous  in  the  utterance.  I  must  now  depart  i  the 
band  usually  pursue  their  work  at  dusk,  but  mine 
requires  the  daylight."  Raphael  now  spoke  in  his 
native  tongue,  being  so  little  conversant  with  Eng- 
lish that  he  was  obliged,  when  using  that  language 
to  interpolate  many  words  from  his  own.  ' 

"Do  not  leave  me!"  exclaimed  Horace,  who 
already  looked  upon  the  Rossignol  as  his  onlv 
earthly  protector.  ^ 


i 


A  DASH  FOR  FREEDOM. 


53 


m«  J  e      is  a  villager  sick,  perhaps  dying,  whom  I 

me     I  w/li^"f  °*^'i'  ^^^  "^"«*  ^«t  vainly  expect 
me     I  will,  please  Heaven,  return  before  dark  •  and 

Se  day'''  ^°'  ^"°^  ^^^  ^°"^  ^^  ^^PP^^  the  waAts  of 
So  saying,  Raphael  with  a  light  step  descended 
the  rude  steps  which  led  to  thi  body  of  the  Tve 

?rrt  T"   '5'""^"^  ^^^^  ^  P^«"tiful  SUpp  y  of  bX; 

fare  than  Horace  would  have  expected  to  find  in 
such  a  place.  His  appetite  was  now  keen  as  he 
mountahT  "°''"^  -nee  he  had  left  the  Son'tL' 

a  ;^z::^\i  7a!5  'TLiz:^'  ^-^  ^^^^--  ^^ 

any  shght  services  which  I  can  render.     I  Lst^J 

anxiety,  while^  Otto  lives,  your  life  ip  perfectly  safe 
from  any  deed  of  violence.  AnnoyaSce  or  insuk 
you  may  have  to  endure,  but  a  brive  yoSh  as  I 
doubt  not  that  you  are,  can  endure  hardnes  like  a 
good  soldier  of  the  cross  " 

tr,  Jr!?®i^^^'^°'■^^'1.^"^  *^^  S^^^"^«  which  accompanied 
them  acted  on  the  spirit  of  Horace  like  the  sound 
of  a  trumpet.     Refreshed  by  his  morn  ng  ablSs 

Youth's  bo^l°'f^'^'\^?  ^^^  P^^^^*^"'  nit  on^  the 
Lk^     aa^'}^  ^""^^^  ^^^t  invigorated,  but  his  mind 
rebounded  from  its  late  depression  with   all     he 
elasticity  of  hope.     There  weJ-e  a  thousand  chances 
Horace  thought,  in  his  favor.     His  mother  mfght- 

roused  to^^^^^^^^  '''t^^f  ^^^^^nnient  would  be 

Jobbers      Ivl  ?  ^'^'^^'^'"ITS^  ^^^^^  '«  ^^sh  t^e 
^u^uA  .^  ^^'^'^^  t'^^S'  Matteo  himself  mirht 

cs^cape  ^^"^P^ssion,   aid    him   to    effect    his 

But  >y'y  should  he  wait  for  Raphael?— the  thouo-ht 
darted  into  the  mind  of  Horace  as  he  concluded  his 


54 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


as  would  estabHsh  Sf  re^utat  nn  '^^u  ""^  ?"^^  ^  ^^^^ 
of  his  days.  The  cavern  wo i.  -If  ^  ^^/"^  ^^^  ^^«  ^^st 
the  very  bats  had  retfr/rf .     '  '^'"  Perfectly  quiet- 

Horace  had  of  en  lon-re/f"   mdefinable    charm? 
was  one  which  hadTit  enough  "nr"'"*-"^'* 

fetters;  ?LyTo!T„1y™™krimni°."'.'^*  "^  "'^ 
inents,  but  made  <»,nh„  „i  ^  impeded  his  move- 
it  was'certrto 'rouse  the  rofe"^  "il  S""'^"''  """ 
once  bevond  the  ra,r«  iS!  ^°°^®rs.     If  Horace  were 

but  in  tS  vauLTecidnroh  ^k"'^  '^^"^^^  ^^««. 
was  trebled.  As  his  onW  S.c.^"'^^^^.  ^^^"^  «°"«*^ 
reclined  on  the  rock  L^J^  resource,  the  youth  half 

one  hand    so   tW  flf.  •  ""^^^  u«^  "^  *^^  ^^^in  with 
stone,  wUh  the  other  L''r, '^°"'^  "^*  '°"^h  the 
alonlr^•„  a  slow  ami  ri    ^'''^^  *^  P^^P^l  himself 
Tedious  and  awkw"1,  "T"''  ""^^'.^^ortaMe  manner, 
ffression  i?  ha  J  o^f     .^l  "^^^  ^^'«  method  of  pro- 
fndlver'y  yarl  fre^rover  T "' "/  ^^'S^  "°^«*^^«^^. 
a  gigantfc'^stride  IClaX  frS  '''n.Tl'  'Z  ^^ 
distant  seemed  that  yawning^^tr^  t^rl^^'^^^ 


ADASH  FOR  FREEDOM. 


hole  or  shot,  in  the%ir:^thoTth'e'Usl"b  lUy  o? 

co«  a?Kt  .'^LThe  KefV  "f '^» 
entrance    was   much    overdo,™   wM?'  ^S""? ''  "l* 

Xf.-^fL^:aTH:%rne?-3S 

wi/tao'tL*^'  mantling  fSliage  asMe  he  Sh^ 
way  into  the  open  air,  and  sprane  to  his  fc^t  f..i 
m?  m  the  action  as  though  L  al^ady  wer^aliSs't 

Horace  had    however    nn^^         ^^"  "^^^  '^^"^'^^- 
„„.^,„„_„.   jyj-  „  aowttward  path.     The 


s« 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


rock,  that  a  false  stenm,^^*?^'  P""P't'>^'  wall    of 

down  r rxc1a']me^?h''e''J?l°?>  '"■'^'"P""^  '°  ««' 
surv*»v,n^  o     •  ,  almost  despairing  youth  after 

IZIZ^  ^^?'°  ^"'^  ^&a^*n  the  rugged  steeti     ••? 
cannot  conceive  hnw  t  «.  "«.6f "  s»ieep.       i 

Enrico  draS  me  ui  wlu'""""'^'^  these  rocks, 
his  benevo&Sr  as'^t^'^S"'"  ?Y'"'Stb,  or  even 

have  cte^T^^l-^^^^^^^^^  Should  not 

e.rn°st^n"eS!°Sorcarhelo"re"  "''■•  P"''-'*' 

fs^ke  o^^^ni;  r?3^r'-\-UMnnordi 

and  the  richest  rew^^"""*  "*  ""•°"8''  ">*  ^ood. 
You  are  miserable  her«— your  life  is—" 

«ot  ,oi4  to  fl^nTuZVs  a!L*.j«i?:rpt  :;'r:2: 


ANXIOUS  HOURa 


Hf  e  I  not  sien'cTrL^.X^'^hrbfcJdf'  ^Tr""?' 
"« 'o  the  ro\f  a  JKLTJ^^  ."?•■"  »°  «"  '"« 

leaving  HoraS  to  medkaU  on'tSr/'  ""  ""'?"• 
•cter  of  his  own  situation  desperate  char- 


CHAPTER  IX. 
ANXIOUS  HOURS. 

evidence  of  his  senSri-hTf     ?®!*^^»"&  against  the 
could  not  be  imp^ss?ble   Hnr^  ""^  "^^'/^  desirable 

attempts  to  deTnd  4;  ^Ts' whL^'^^'^^^ 
them,  he  had  hurt  hie  Ll?^    '   ^"®°'  *"  making 
would  have  cried  afoudw^t'  '°  "^^^''^^  ^^^^  h% 
feared  that  the  sound  1^1!.  ^^"S^'^^J  h^d  he  not 
robbers.      With  a  vei  hS    ^l  ^^^^^^ard  by  the 

leanine  his  head  on  hie  wj       acning  limbs,  and 
anxioul  thought  ^'-  *^*™  '''™««'f  "P  to 

grant?    kaphael  mt,«t  i^.  a-L?J°  >,M^^er  to 

:i-.iv4j;afciijg  aiB  release, 


nil 

I 


Naples  for  fomeSe  thl  ^'^^^  ^'^"^  '^^  king  of 
driven  one  boni  S?^eiter  tv"'™'''^^"  °^  ^^i^h  had 
of  a  robber's  den  Perhanr^A,'^  T ^  '^^  shelter 
Enrico  might  he'thet^iVJ'\^'^^  P^^^«°  of 
thoughts  rambled  on  throu^i  nli^^T'  "^''^^^'s 
as  the  forest  before  him      H    P^^^s  almost  as  mazy 

m  the  way  of  distTngnShing  hiS  ^1^^%^^! 
the  son  of  an  officer,  and  horJ^tTJ  1       ^^P^^el  was 
man;  with  hissing^trr  taye^.^i^r'^'^P,?^*^®"*'^^ 
society,  and  might  W  himself  )^  "^^."^^  «^^^«  ^"7 
Horace  had  already  b^i  to  i    ^°  ^  ^'^''  Position, 
n  his  mysterious  frind^who^^^^^^  ^  strong  interest 
tion  afforded  to  the  youth^s  mfn?*'*^*^   ^"^  ^^^ua- 
he  was  curious  to  sdve     RTtfhlf  ^"^^/"a  which 
evil  company  and  T^*o«      P^^?   certainly   kept 
chosen  asL4es7the  ^Zt'^thL^  known  V  ,^s 
hinted  doubts   reVardifcr  ?•  ^?  *°"  ^^^  "^ore  than 
signol  had  himseff^co^  eleSlhaJ'r^y    '^^  ^<^'' 
shackles,  which  confi^td  Giu.enn^-^  ^^^  °"'^*  ^om 
he  had  known  the  iSe  of  a  ^?f  °*^  S'P''^  ^^at 
other  hand.  Horace  recalled  t>£"'°°-     ?"*'  °"  t^e 
he  remembered  how  his  oreln^!  r?^  ^^  Raphael; 
being  of  higher  and  purer  «!?«!'  hke  that  of  some 
foul  flood  of   viircoSvIrsah^nn  ^V^*^  ?^^k«^  the 
amongst  the  banditd.  InS  how  in^'^i^J^^  ^9^^^ 
he  on  that  morning  had   seen   fhl      ^'"^  ^V^'«^^ 
kneeling  in  prayer  *^®   ^oung  Italian 

That  last  recollection    raised    i«    fi,     t. 
Horace  a  feeline  of  ^^f  rT^       ,."   S^®  bosom  of 
instinctive  eia^\JLT„u'l^''^''^'     Except  a  few 
prayers.  sin?e  hi  "c^^^^^^^^^  hardly^be  called 

of  devotion.     H-  had  w«   ^^  neglected  the  duty 

his  own  hopes  and  fears  hTs  dTffi""  u-^  '^^^"  "P  ^^tb 
so  great  had  been  hlHinf '"^^'^^  ^"^  dangers, 
excitement  caused  by  t?e  stra„a^  ^''^^^'  ^°^  *^^ 
around  him.  that  HoLc'e'^harnTbeTh?s  LTelf 


If 


ANXIOUS  HOUR& 

life  had  Horac'I'had  ^rea  e'nfed  of^?^"^  °^  ^'« 
tion.     He  had  tried  all  ^Ta^/L?  ^  °^  Divine  protec- 

erance,  and  aUhavIni  failed  >;,rv"«  ^^^  his  deliv- 
the  prisoner  but  to  tu?n  unto  S^2^' •  ^  remained  for 
are  the  issues  of  life  and  de^fiT^T'^i  "^^^"^  ^^"^8 
ing  branches  of  the  oak  in  fi^.n"^^^  ^^^  ''P^^^^^- 
and  desolate  spot  the  Voui/ f-^'',^^ '''^' ^»^^ 
and  prayed.  Horace  nr^lF  /^^  uV«  ^nelt  down 
himself-more  for  re^rnl^  '  mother-for 

of  hi,  comf anions  had  P.P^;„7J'°',T"''»'°<"-'hree 
the  sunshin?.  '  ^^  '^untered  lazily  forth  into 

Horace  was  on  his  f#»#»f  ;«  »  _ 
^^unau,.  o.  the%-X:,^°lKeh,ISar£- 

th'-.  open  air  the  ^^/r*  JSrS,  T\?'L''  *"J»y  i° 
lans  are  so  fond  TheVir.fl  A "''''=''  'he  Ital- 
ground  in  front  of  tTefr  JeS  anH^IT'r  -^  '"e 
beguile  the  time,  amused  thlmUl  ?'  ''*«"  'o 
young  stranger  a  number  mJ^^I^"  ^^  ""^'"S  the 

country,  its^ustoms  ^t/plo^    ju  ™?^"'*4  ■'"=' 
their  comment  ,i«««  if-  *'*'"?,'?»  ^ts  ruler,  makine 

half  ins~'  ZnJ;"  'J^T  ^"  "^y'  J^^"'^'" 
patience.  CommS,  sense  ^^^  '°'-  ^  '"^^  ^'^ 
that  there  w^s  Httle  to  h.  -^"'/^^^^  Horace 
with  men  who  held  hfs  iL^^'^'fu  >^  ^^^rreling 
that  it  was  better  to  Sear  an  iLu^'"  ^^"^''  ^"^ 
try  whether  the  rob W  stfi^f f"  l'"i^,  ^^'^  ^^^  to 
than  their  wit  '^®"°^  ^*^  ^««ner  edge 


i 


6o 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


llli.. 


RoMignol  h.,<I    earned  tS™  thiPh^'I^J''  ""• 
on  the  preceding  night  *^  "*''  '""^ 

I.;r 'nV;e7edr  r^^e  tholf "^JftolT'  '" 
more  repulsive  when  seen  by  Jhrdear  i  ah,  „f  7^" 

o    W^s'^r?  fTo'ux^  S/-'"      "Ann'ef  n'o?^i 
that  he  l/arned  itT  hTs'ca^*" " '^  "  "''  """  '  '"«  ■ 
••Oh   if-  ^""  '"  •'"^°"  then?"asked  Horace 

ourVnfouf  K  V  Prat  is°  •tu^gSld'L^^ 

has  found  the  bedchamber  n  J!  V!?  ^^PP"'     ""d 

th.n>™i  far.  none  onhldaTntfesfr.''''  "•"-»•  ""> 

..ifhihadtS;l°aVou„7^"  ^°"°«  ^'*™'»<» 

tionrn.d"e^1nreCur  'TL"T%^f-  f"-™" 
amuse  themselves%ri!hrt7;,„^''*"'^""  •>««»■>  »<> 
their  ni-earaS  sLr  and  H^rl?''  «"?'"'"»  '"ay 
tag  them  in  silenrd  s^st  from  unA.?  5-  'f  "*'<="■ 
many  things  that  hLT^«i„       j    °^'^.  *"*  "■«-  »* 

moth';r  stfked  and  teTav  tIT"  """^  "i" 
noonday  meal  nf  «,«!,"         •  ^^X'     ^"®"  came  the 

of  tSe^aSs  whiS,  wi'Zen"!?.*  P^'"""  '""' 
of  which  the  Prisoner  with  ,  ",  "".f  "P?"  *'"■•  «"d 
invited  by  thr^oSbe^sTo^arSkl  "^  tCh^  H 
now  become  oporessivelv  w  ..  T,.  .^'y  ""'^ 
after  the  fashioS''o"X1  ^o'^^t^^itrl'tched  thl'"' 

Hi«rdi'd''Lfr^'°ev%1U?;f""^^^^^ 

of  conforming  tolhTs'  It^Z^f^Z^XVX^^i 


ANXIOUS  HOURS. 


6i 


have  felt  too  restless  and  anxious  to  do  so.  In  a 
half -recumbent  position  he  remained  listening  to 
the  loud,  monotonous  noise  of  the  cicala,  a  kind  of 
Deetle  that  all  day  long  fills  the  air  with  its  harsh 
grating  sound,  and  watching  the  lizards  as  with 
quick  motion,  their  lithe,  slender  forms  glanced  in 
and  out  of  holes  in  the  rock.  Familiarity  with  the 
sight  of  the  robbers  had  rather  lessened  his  fears  of 
danger  from  them,  and  though  Horace  had  small 
hope  of  effecting  his  escape  l)y  any  efforts  of  his 
own,  he  had  strong  expectations  that  the  unwearied 
exertions  of  his  mother  would  avail  to  procure  his 
leiease* 

When  the  sun,  sloping  towards  the  west,  was 
throwing  the  broad  sh/Aiow  nf.  the  mountain 
across  the  valley  which  itrstche  ?  in  front  of  the 
cave,  the  banditti  prepan  d  >  star  upon  some  law- 
less expedition.  The  day  oi  listless  indolence  and 
reckless  gambling  was  prob  <  iy  to  be  succeeded  by 
an  evening  of  crime.  Horace  was  well  [leased  to 
find  that  Matteo  had  no  intention  of  dragHng  his 
captive  with  him  into  the  woods.  The  yoiith  had 
exchanged  no  word  with  the  chief  on  that  day  but 
before  the  robber  quitted  his  mountain  haunt,  he 
strode  up  to  Horace,  and  addressed  him  with  an 
expression  of  savage  determination  upon  his  hard 
features,  that  was  calculated  to  inspire  more  fear 
than  the  tenor  of  his  words. 

"I  need  hardly  command  you,  boy,  not  to  stir 
beyond  this  platform  of  rock,  as— even  were  you 
unfettered— it  would  be  impossible  for  you  to  find 
your  way  through  yon  forest  without  a  guide.  It 
may  be  as  well,  however,  to  remind  you,  that  these 
woods  are  our  familiar  haunts,  that  watch  is  kept 
there  by  night  and  by  day,  and  that  a  network  sur- 
rounds you  there  which  you  would  feel  before  you 
saw  It.  Were  you  detected  in  any  insane  attempt 
to  break  through  the  toils,  short  and  sharp  would 
be  the  means  taken  to  curb  your  restless  humor. 
You  are  not  the  first  orisoner  whnfn  t  Vioir^  i,a^«.  «^. 


If 


iron  around  it. '  •    "^^"'^^^"t  than  a  great  weight  of 

threat^''ti'i";?ocuratorof^^°  ""/^  °^«^heard  the 
for  the  rest  ofVHfrasat^^^^^^  go  halting 

n»8-ht  m  the  den  of  the  woi#      ". '^^.'  ^®  Passed  one 
escape  in  the  morningr'^°^^'  *"^  '"^^  '<>  »nake  h°s 


CHAPTER  X. 
THE  LONE  SENTINEL. 

nafe  !?h1  ba°idhrn'f  ^'"*">•  "'""te,  to  rumi 
"und  of  a  meWy   wa?wid"^  "^■■?'»ff-  "I"™  he" 
once  heard,  could  ev«?ft.l '"  f^*"  '""'^  which 
announced  to  his  gild  ear  t?^?!'  ^  '"^cognized' 
coming  through  the  forest     S*?.'  ""fsnol  wa 
^?  Sof  the  i™provisato're.  h'^^lt  ^^e/X^d'^t' 

S'^l «  -"''r'''K^^^^^^^^^^^^  Horace 

trees.        Have  you  hearH  o«« if.  ^^®^  ^rom  the 

/a^^rri-Sf  »e^r """ 

rS^^^l^aLVdrfj^-f-eT™'  -  >■• 
Enghsh,  "CouMyou^otcnnf'!  P"aP«  and  said  in 

would  not  do''4,"%Xd"L':r  ?'  .'"'°°^  fat  I 

bound  me  by  that  which  h.f''"'!     ^ad  he  not 

break,  he  would  havrdetained  "T'  "!■'  '  "«"" 

to'.J'T"  as  close  a  pSCer  »?-  '"  K"  fastness 

With  the  agili.v  of  .;!/.'' ''"""elf. " 

now  ascended^tS  ?4ks  ?rj"?  *«  ^  ig  Italian 
front  of  the  cave,  Sold^TV*?  Platfom,  ta 
wh.ch  he  carried   ,lung'"4^i„a''^  him  '"  Hin"'' 


THE  LONE  SENTINEL. 


«3 

f!m ''!;  °°  reaching  the  spot  where  Horace  awaited 
him,  was  directed  towards  the  fettered  ankles  of  the 

quickly"  ^^""^  ^^^"^  attempting  to  escape!"  he  said 

clutch  you  ire  held   ^''"  "^^^  ^"°^'  *°  ^^^^^^  ^lose  a 

."   ,V  ^       are  held    I  see,  as  you  cannot  «*»#»  *»,* 

pitfalls  surrounding  you  here  "  '     ® 

tienSv'  I«?  ""^^  i  ^""^'^  "Claimed  Horace  impa- 
cage&n     ^^  "°^^'  *^«  ^°««  °^  bondage  iike^  a 

wo Js'^uJtiJL^^^ii!  ?[f ^  the  reply;  and  these  three 

the  pain  caused  to  the  captive  bv  thtohJ^JTiu- 
endure  the  p,^,„r/of  the'lj^^u^inr  Ue"«5 


«4 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


i 


swollen  ankles.     He  implored  Raphael,  as  he  had 

Zlt  ^Sl??'  1,*°  ?^"r  ^^  f^°°^  th'e^orttiring 
bonds.  Sadly  but  firmly  his  suit  was  refused,  an! 
when  pressed,  it  only  wrung  forth  the  unanswerable 
qucsiion : 

brotw'r  ^^'^  ^*^®  ""^  sacrifice  the  life  of  my 
When  all  that  was  possible  had  been  done  for  the 
prisoner's  relief,  Horace  asked  Raphael,  with  some 
curiosity,  what  was  the  favor  which  he  had  eipre^d 
his  intention  of  one  day  asking  c^iprcsaea 

J^rf!^  '^  2°T'"  ^^^J}^^  *^®  Rossignol;  and  to  the 
surprise,  and  almost  disappointment  of  young  Cleve- 
^nd  he  drew  forth  from  his  bosom  a  small  Enirlish 
T^sument,  which  bore  marks  of  having  been  much 

*7^°^^^  ,^*^®  ^«^*  th^s  with  you  this  m.  Ang  " 
be  discovered,  and  taken  from  you  by  force     See 

wh^h  I  know  of  that  tongue  has  been  chiefly  learnt 
ff!.  S  .P*8^«.s;>t  my  knowledge  is  very  imper- 
feet;  oft  in  vain  I  struggle  to  make  out  the  meaning 
?L!  P^^8:e.  like  one  groping  in  the  darkness  of  a 
cave.  You,  who  can  speak  my  laniniaire  as  well  lu 
IZmngJ'"^^^  "^-ke  alfclear  aid  plfki  fo  ,S^  unde^ 
"How  did  you  get  this?"  asked  Horace  with  inter- 

Sr^i  «?{?^*  **\*?  ^°  ^^®  title-page,  on  which  the 
name  of  Pietro  Manno  was  written. 

R^ritii'^®..!®^''®  .^^®  ^^^*  ^°  ^"oth**'  day,"  replied 
?Z  t1  ^J'""^  ''.  """^  precious;  I  expert  that  the 
r^L  ^^  ^l'^  ^^l"'"«^  '■^'^"^  "^^^^  «ariy  than  usual. 
Could  you  know  how  long  and  how  anxiously  I  have 

Z  m«i^Ii  '"/"^  ^"^  opportunity  as  this,  you  would 
not^  marvel  at  my  reluctance  to  hazard  its  loss  by 

yJ^AfW""^*  Raphael  thrc.   himself  on  the  rock 

^Itl  Sr?""^'  *!!^  t^^^^ly  ^"™^°8r  over  the  pages 
of  the  Testament,  showed  place  after  place  where 


THE  LONE  SENTINEL. 


«5 


*SJl  f f  p  "  r^^il^^?!^'*^  ^^°"^  ^'^  imperfect  knowl- 
edge  of  English.  Horace  had  often  read  the  Bible 
with  his  mother,  often  listened  to  chapter  in 
^^";c^;.\nd  had  with  tolerable  regularity    though 

himself.  But  the  cold,  lifeless  form  which  the  per- 
formance of  this  duty  had  too  often  been  to  ^he 
youth,  was  something  different  indeed  from  the 
mtense  earnestness  which  he  now  saw  in  his  strai  Je 
companion.  It  was  evident  that  to  Raphael  rS 
was  a  living  reality,  something  that  engaged  all  the 
powers  of  his  mind  as  well  as  all  the  Iffections  of 
fcis  soul.  The  Bible  was  to  him  as  the  Father's 
letter,  treasured  in  the  bosom  of  the  Son-  as  the 
charter  by  which  he  held  all  his  dearest  Lpe^;  as 
the  pardon  signed  and  sealed"  granted  to  the 
prisoner  by  the  grace  of  his  King. 
«  t^!^°'r^?^^"'^."°'^^^^^^^  together  as  long 

Kv?J^     1^^^/^*^'  ^""^  pursued  their  occupation 

?^n?:ft:^i.ti„^^3\aT  ^'^^'  ^^^^  ^^^^'^^  - 

h.^rfoT®  T^  "^^^^  ''^''^^  ^"  Scripture  history,  but 
he  had  only  a  very  superficial  knowledge  of  the 
Epistles  of  St.  Paul.  The  glowing  fervent  snirit  of 
devotion  breathing  through^hem^hfd  foSnd^io  re 
SDonse  in  his  heart.  He  read  now,  almost  as  though 
tfiey  were  new  to  him.  the  soul-stirring  words  of  the 
apostle  and  martyr,  proclaiming  the  blessed  truths 
which  he  so  joyfully  sealed  with  his  blood.     -  mul 

strong!  Horace  felt  that  the  Italian  at  his  side 
was  not  merely  reading  this  as  a  chronkled  address 

i^fn  nJ  wn^'""'^^^'  *  ^^i^h^ord  to  be  used  on  the 
field  of  battle,  a  command  from  a  leader  to  a  soldier 
of  the  cross.  v»«iv;i 

paused  in  his  reading— "is  it  true  that  in  your 
blessed  land  these  Scriptures  are  open  tn  sX^V' 


i«s 


M 


THE   ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


•♦Si  r®""^^^ ''^''  have  a  Bible,"  replied  Horace. 
*^.U!r'      t  ^f'^^  ??"®^  ^®  wielded  there  for  the 
tnith!    said  the  Italian,  laying  his  hand  upon  the 
open  Testament.     "In  this  country  there  is  but  a 
man  here  and  there,  like  a  picket  in  a  hostile  land 
S«f«-?  lu^  on  a  post  of  danger,  tograspwith  a  feeble 
hand  the  sword  of  the  Spirit,  the  Wd  of  God 
standing  forth  m  a  cause  which,  were  it  not  the 
cause  of  the  Almighty,  he  might  well  consider  to 
be  desperate;  but  with  you,  how  strong,  how  united 
a  phalanx  must  hold  the  ground  against  all  oppos- 
ers,  and  go  forward  conquering  and  triumphant  in 
the  great  battle  that  is  waged  on  earth'" 
r«tw*^^^*  battle  do  you    speak?"  said    Horace, 
rather  to  draw  forth  an  answer  from  Raphael  than 
^''?!2,^'^y  <^»fficulty  as  to  his  meaning. 

The  great  battle  between  truth  and  error  Lieht 

-?L  WfT'''  ^^i\"^  Satan,"  replied  Riphael; 
that  battle  in  which   every  individual   must  be 
enlisted  on  one  or  the  other  side." 

*Not  necessaril)  to  take  any  very  active  part." 
observed    Horace,   who   felt   as  regarded    himself 

^ffoA  ?„1h'e7r^r'*  """*^''  '"'  ^"^"'^  ""  ^"' 
Raphael  fixed  his  large,  earnest  eyes  upon  the 
speaker  with  an  expression  of  grave  surpri^  *'In 
the  world's  warfare,"  said  he,  "what  do  we  esteem 
a  soldier  who  shrinks  from  taking  his  part  in  the 
struggle,  who  obevs  not  his  leader,  who  deserts  his 
banner  at  a  period  of  danger?' * 

i.TV^rt®"'  ^'"^  *  coward,"  replied  Horace. 
4.U     J  ®  P^^^  ^^^^  t^®  enemy?" 

He  has  the  name,  and  deserves  the  fate  of  a 
traitor. 

"And  what  shall  we  call  those  who,  enlisted  from 
infancy  to  oppose  sin  and  Satan,  are  content  to 
remain  mere  spectators  of  the  strife,  or  who  actually 
join  the  ranks  of  the  foe?"  ^»»iir 

"Nine-tenths  of  the  Christian  worid  do  so " 
observed  Horace,  "and  cerUinly  look  upon  them- 


THE  LONE  SENTINEL. 


67 

?k1  w»f  ^''^-^"^  ^  cowards  nor  traitors.    Few  consider 
that  there  IS  any  battle  to  be  fought  at  aU.     Men 
follow  their  own  pleasure,  do  their  own  will,  and 
doubt  not  but  that  all  will  be  well  in  the  end." 
You  do  not  think  so?"  said  Raphael 

^oS.^I^^u  ^'i^'l"?^'^*'*^*^  "^P^y-  ««  was  too  con. 
scious  that  he  had  been  describing  his  own  state  of 
m-nd.  and  felt  that  if  a  brave,  earnest,  self-sacrific- 
mg  spirit  of  devotion  be  necessary  to  the  Christian 
soldier,  he  was  unworthy  of  the  name.  Willing  to 
change  the  conversation,  he  said  abruptly  • 

iu^A    J  ™"?  H  ""^^^^^  *^  *  sentinel  in  a  hostile 
^*??  J  i. wonder  how  you  can  keep  your  ground  at 
all  m  this  the  very  stronghold  of  the  enemy  " 
T     A  ^^  ^"J  fT^^P   ^y  sword,  and   look  to  mv 
^Ihtr;  ;^^   ^*P^""^-  /*^  ^"^   sometimes  wSl^ 

••I  marvel  why  you  remain  here,"  began  Horace 
t'In^^t?^^^  prevented  from  coAcluding  his  in: 
tence  by  the  sound  of  a  shrill  whistle  from  the  wood 

i^fohW^m'^^"^^  "''•"^'  ^^^^  ^^  ^-*--i 

m^""  Th«v  h«/^/""!f^  ^°  *  ^^^y  discontented 
Tn^'^fJ  ^1,^*^  ^''""*^  "°  P'^y*  ^"^  brought  back 
uSd^  ^'.i  ^A^  ^""^5:  consolation  which  the^  found 
^h^V^^K  ^"appointment,  was  that  of  exercising 

prisoner  had  to  run  the  gaif>'*t  of  every  kind  of 
annoyance  Horace,  littll  accustomed  ^  insult 
chafed  with  impotent  rage.  He  glanced  at  Ra- 
phae  .  as  though  to  claim  his  protection,  and  the 
cim.^  v"^'"' r"J  ^PP^""^  t«  nc>tice  the  appwl. 
Ur^^A  ?  ^'^  "^l^.^  '"  *^«  *^°J>'  effectual  way/  The 
liquid  tone,  of  his  guitar  were  heard  through  the 
noisy  uproar,  and  the  tumult  suddenly  lulled      The 

"fj^^it'l!'."*'^^  ^V"^''  *  ^P«»  as  fable  ascribes  f :  that 
^-»  ---.i-ii^us,  ttuu  airawai  «»  savage  an  auditory  as  that 


i 


68 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


Which  listened  to  fhc  .ncient  bard,  gathered  around 
the  Rossignol  as  h  ^  poured  forth  his  thrilling  lay  :-- 

There  la  a  sword  of  glitiaring  sheen— 

All  unite  to  defend  the  ripTit! 
Its  blade  is  bright,  and  its  edj;e  is  k«  ;n 
But  the  wound  it  gives  is  a  w  nind  ur  neen. 

And  who  would  flinch  in  the  glorio^ia  fight! 

There  is  a  foe— r  ruthless  foe— 

Such  unite  to  oppose  the  right! 
In  secret  Rmbush  he  croucheth  low, 
And  th,i  blow  he  strikes  is  a  deadly  blow. 

But  who  would  flinch  in  the  glorious  fight  I 

There  is  ,s  bifnner  flonHng  wide - 

All  Uite  to  dafen'   i:  r;  right! 
The  blood  of  marty.v  ,3  fo"  i  hm^  dyed 
When  thr  best  and  tb«  b.avf  i  (o,jg|(.  s^de  by  dda. 

For  who  would  flinch  ia  m,  g?otfo««  fightf 


<»igh ) 
T'ht! 


There  is  a  Reader  «  mKe> 

All  ttoite  to  defen»;i  t{  ^  ••jrJn;' 
Through  Him  His  followtm' hosts  defy. 
Through  Him  they  learn  I  >  do  and  to  die. 

And  scorn  to  fiinch  in  the  glorious  fight! 

'^'^I^!?  i"  a  palm— ti  victor's  palm— 
.«s'^]l  "°^*®  *°  defend  the  right ! 
1  vrill  be  piven  in  realms  of  peace  and  calm 
To^tnc  steadfast  spirit,  the  stalwart  arm 
TBftt  fiover  fiinched  in  the  glorious  fight! 

Then  shall  11m  touched  with  living  flame 

In  song:  unite— in  the  world  of  Ifeht. 
w.%^''  tf*^«^'»  strength,  in  our  Leader's  name. 

liTS'^^\*^W'^-'^^  oven^me-^  ' 

And  victors  stood  Ln  the  glorious  fight!" 

So  spirited  was  the  air,  so  flowiae  the  me««iir» 

Zr^ht  ***^^®'v^"5  '*''^^*^  *^^  t^«  banditti  actually 
joined  in  the  burden.     Horace  saw,  however,  by  the 


i 


THE  LONE  SENTINEL. 


«9 


glances  directed  towards  the  improvisatore  that 
the  words  were  only  tolerated  on  account  of  the 
music;  and  Enrico,  as  if  the  strair  vere  hateful  to 
him,  quitted  the  table  before  the  song  was  ended 

On  the  mind  of  the  young  prisoner  himself  the 
effect  of  the  lay  was  po^rerful.     He  felt  his  spirit 
roused  by  the  music,  which  seemed  to  burst  forth 
from  the  singer's  soul  rather  than  from  his   lips. 
Horace  realized,  as  he  had  never  done  before  his 
own  responsibilities  as  a  sworn  soldier  of   Christ 
Had  he  not  been  enlisted  to  serve  under  the  banner 
of  the  cross  to  fight  manfully  against  the  worid.  the 
flesh,  and  the  devil?    And  how  had  he  kept  his  vow 
—how  had  he  fought  under  that   banner?    What 
interest  had  he  taken  in  the  holy  cause—what  had 
he  ever  sacrificed  in  order  to  spread  its  conquests? 
It  was  not  needful  for  Horace  to  compare  himself 
with    missionaries    spending    their    strength    and 
hazarding  their  lives  to  win  heathen  lands  for  their 
Leader;  nor  with  the  devoted  men  and  unv»en  who 
in  densely  crowded  cities  lead  the  assault  against 
the  enemy's  mightiest  strongholds;   such  may  be 
tenned  the  for/orn  hope  of  the  Christian  host,  the 
Gideons  or  Davids  of  the  army;  but  had  he  shown 
himself  worthy  to  be  counted  even  amontrst  the 
common  rank  and  file?    Had  he  ever  struck  one 
good  blow  for  the  sake  of  religion  against  a  beset- 
ting sin?    Had  he  cared  even  to  keep  his  sword 
bnght?    Had  he  not  felt  ashamed  on  that  morning 
at  being  discovered  in  the  act  of  prayer?    Could  he 
regard  himself  as  other  than  a  coward,  even  if  he 
deserved  not  the  name  of  traitor? 

How  the  lay  rang  that  night  m  the  ears  of  Horace' 
1  he  music  haunted  him  when  he  retired  with  Ra- 
phael  to  the  rocky  recess,  whither  they  had  been  pre- 
ceded by  Enrico.  Horace  there  found  a  fresh  bed 
of  fragrant  herbs,  which  had  been  gathered  for  him 
over  which  was  thrown  a  mantle  which  he  had  seen 

on  the  shoulders  of  Raphael. 

~  ~*'  '*      '^      ■       "  "  J ... _ - 

uown  iC  ^la/,  iinu 


7© 


THE  r.OBBERS'  CAVE. 


the  young   Englishman  knelt  beside  him.     Horace 

fnAl  ^^P^^^^was  making  his  simple  preparations 
for  the  night,  m  removing  a  portion  of  his  dress  he 
bared  h,s  shoulder,  and  accidemally  displayed  to  the 
view  of  Horace  a  hurt  which  he  had  receYved  on  it 
0  purple  contusion,  as  from  some  blunt  but  heavv 

ierr/sev^e!?:  ^^^"^  '^'  -^^-^^  ^"otj; 

exZmed^Horacr'  ''''    *"^'  "   "^'^    "  ^^^'^" 

me'-renL^p^^'iiT'^'  ^^^"  °°  pHson-scar  upon 
c"£ief 'sITruUli^;.^''^^'  '°^*""«^  *^«  *^^'<^«"-  o^  ^^e 
*'And  do  you  know  how  he  won  that  scar?" 
exclaimed  Enrico  with  vehemence.  ''In  comL 
between  the  wolf  and  his  prey,  in  trying  toTavf 
that  poor  wretch  Carlo  from  destrSn  His 
SlnTPiTWr*  ^"  '^^^  h«  does  is  S  vain,  the 

Sp^'htuia;".^^  "^''^  -''  ^«"  --  ^^ 

,kll  "»».'°5ff  e«  Horace  could  sleep.     The  siirht  of 

viviaiy  oetore  him  the  savage  nature  of  the  man  in 
whose  absolute  power  he  lay  than  aught  hThad 
ttTr^\^^^'^l  "Raph^l  niust  indeel'-  thought 
i^  o^PS'X^  ^^^'  ^  ^«"^i"«^  on  a  post  of  danger 
as  a  soldier  isolated  from  his  comrades  in  In 
enemy's  land."  Horace  looked  at  the  voune 
Italian,  stretched  in  peaceful  slumber  on  his  S 
bed.  and  wondered  how  his  repose  could  be  so  serene 
and  untroubled.  It  was  the  consciousness  of  the 
presence  of  a  watchful  Guardian  that  gaJe  ?o  the 
so  d,er  of  the  cross  calm  sleep  in  the  robbers*  den 

^fA  ^""^  '»y ,^^iy<^twn,  whom  shall  I  fear f  thelZd 
ts  thi  strength  of  my  life,  of  whom  shallTb/afraUr 


THE  ORPHAN'S  TALE. 


II 


CHAPTER  XI. 
THE  ORPHAN  S  TALE. 

rr.f'Jl^^^X^!'^^'^^^  ^?^  '^*'  *°  "o^'ace  which  com- 
^«  ?i^!  "^A^^  '5^  dawning  day.  He  closed  his  eyes 
on  the  rude  and  gloomy  cave  around  him,  and  tned 
to  make  memory  and  fancy  replace  the  hateful 
scene;  he  sought  to  shut  his  ears  to  the  noise  of 
oaths  profane  talking,  and  wrangling.  Sadly  he 
recalled  privileges  unprized  and  too  often  neglected 
when  he  had  had  the  power  to  enjoy  them.  He  had 
frequently  been  weary  of  the  quiet  monotony  of  the 
holy  day,  desiring  more  active  amusements,  more 
Vtui!''!  PV«"»t8,  and  now  remembered  the  peaceful 
habbaths  in  his  home  almost  as  though  they  had 
been  spent  m  paradise,  and  sighed  when  the  doubt 
presented  itself  whether  he  would  ever  be  permitted 
to  know  such  Sundays  again.  pcrmiuea 

It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  the  Sabbath  was  no 
holv  season  to  the  robbers.  It  was  passed  with 
rather  more  of  noisy  riot  than  the  preceding  day 

f««:jM  *°|-  T?u "?  ^^  ."'^^^  °^  ^^e  wild  mil  th  so 
^Z^ll.^^^^^i  ^  ^^t'^rackling of  thorm  under 
t/u  pot,  the  laughter  which  makes  the  thoughtful 
listener  more  sad  than  sounds  of  woe.  The  rob- 
bers  gambled,  danced,  reveled,  swore. 

K^l^"^}^^  i^®  especial  target  for  their  coarse 
jests,  which  he  bore  as  one  who  was  accustomed  to 
endurance,  a  veteran  in  suffering,  though  young  in 
HVA  i^i?""*"^  marveled  how  long  the  improvisa- 
tore  had  been  subjected  to  the  daily  martyrdom  of 
Hvi  ♦!°*®***!i.®°'^®'  *  constant  chafing  and  fretting 
iJ*e  tnat  of  the  waves  against  some  solitary  head- 

»n  ^t'^?^**Il^'*""^  ^^®  ^/^'  P*^^  °^  ^^«  <^ay.  appeared 
to  avoid  tht  society  of  the  prisoner;  he  neither 
aaareMed,   nor    even    looked    towards    him.     It 


7» 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVB. 


difficulties  of  his  own  posif  •       It       ..1,1  vf     u 
.nisirthl  r'"  "^""^  <*  •"»  rude  co"~'  '*'"' 

nence.     Again  there  was  a  low  whisn#»r    a«.i   JiT 
robbers  around  burst  into  mSnriZhter    D?,' 

seemed  .ofe  fn  hum.re'i^^'odSnSt? 
£ul   '"Thf,  *;"  =T'«"''i"8  for  the  pos"4  fon  of°a 

the^rTetT™  P^^"*"'  ^'u"^"  ''  "  »»  hourrand  on 

?orm?e»'?oVEnH^"T:'"'"«'  "^"-^  ^^"  - 
«w!r  '  ^  Ennco,  after  mountinir  to  the  1  ^v 
platform,    stood    for    some    momcnfs  V^ore    '1^ 


prisoner/surve^lnrhimTuh  afixed^^d 


JU! 


ag 


THE  ORPHANS       .LB. 


73 


Sf  hi  !?AA  ^f  t°'T"°/  *'*"'*  question  to  him. 

4k     ^^i  ^^?  ^^^^  *°^  ^""^«d  sadly  away 
♦K     5®°'  ^     ,®  hottest  and  most  oppressive  oart  of 

siesta,  the  improvisatore  joined  Horace  under  the 
oak.  Again  was  the  Testament  produced,  and  Lain 
the  prisoner  and  his  companion  drank  deeply  of  its 
hfe-giving  truths.  He  *^  who  has  never  kno^ 
wverer  thirst  than  that  which  makes  a  draugS^?f 
cold  water    refreshing  on    a  summer's    day    can 

«?Itri     ?u  !i'?    ^^'^®^*'     w^en.    exhausted    and 
parched  with  thirst,  he  bends  over  the  lonely  well 
Raphael  was  treading  the  wilderness  of  1  fe   Se 
scorching  sun  of  temptation  above  him,  the  buriiin^ 

t^«.  wer?M  ^SV"  "^T"'     ''  ^''''  ^^^  ^he  S™rip^ 

^1^%^!^!  I    ^'!?  u^  ^^^  ^'^"^^"^  waters  to  the  pt 
grim  ready  to  perish.  *^ 

••I  wish."  said  Horace,  when  at  length  there  was 
a  pause  m  the  reading,  "that  you  would  tell  ^ 
how  you  ever  came  to  lead  this  strange  life  amon St 
robbers,  and  what  induces  you,  unfftter^d  as  v^ 

Md  meTf  ^"  ^l?^\^--ible'pUcf 'Enrico  C 

fh  i?*'  ^°''''  i^^^^^  ^««  ^°  <>ffic«r  o^  gentle 
.'  th.  How  came  the  sons  of  such  a  man  to  dwell 
w  ;^e  haunts  of  banditti?"  " 

^hael  sighed  as  he  made  answer.  "My  father 
V  ot  at  honorable  family ;  but  his  own  hiro  c  v  *r! 
tues  wo  have  ennobled  any  descent.  He  was 
•without  tt:.r  and  without  reproach, 'This  name  had 

remember  -never  can  I  forget-how  I  used  to  clam- 
ber  on  his  knee  and  play  with  his  sword-knot-      d 

tha^J  ?X1^  ^^^  ^'  ^^"^  "°  "^y  head  and  teil  me 
that  I  should  one  day  serve  the  king,  and  that  th*^ 

in7o^tldiener  nf  J'^^  ^'  ''"^y  ^'^^P'  "° 'weSi: 
ing  Obedience-  obedience  even  unto  death      \nd 

«:ied'rth''hSl'  S^  i""';  «"«  '»  "^    HIW  he 
seaiea  witn    his    blood.      He   r«>r>A,'iro/i   «►  i ^_ 


•w 


u 


THB  KOBBBRg-  CAVa 


M  t 


I'l 


f^an ''k„'^  "'°?°'*'"  P*"  froiir7he  enemy  witl.  I 
Uined  -  whether   f^.r     "".  "'""  ''••'''y  «»cer. 

-«PPoned.  and   ..uZf^y'^'^S^  -^-^. 
the  «Te»ftt''„T  "?''";'"''  ^*"'*''»  '=<»»"'»nd  urged 

«n.i"?^pr;r.fA  'i\ic'eU'"^.n';r «» 

[^^'i'"?""  "•  ■""  I  «™  bo-nd  to  reman      l.^{ 

h.,  office  to  .  .mraand,  and  mine  to  obey/  "  " 

ine  men,     contmued   Raphael  wiii.    .,^„.- 

were  not    insnir(>H   h„  *i..-  "^  .    "    emotion, 

False  to  their  traat^nJ^^"^   captain's    heroism 

devolton  by  ?ar'n'^  for"."lf,  7T'',  •«''  )f "•«>« 
«uch  a  man?"  e.i?.^,;fJ  S'  '"""^fesa  children  of 

deep  .iS.:L,eT,;?s"Ert^St'"  '^'""'"  "'"'  « 

.  re»rd''L''f  "evejy"^  "of'  I'T""  *?"»  -■">  "««•» 

mJuraed.  °'   '  ''"«'""  ">«»•   k"  »>•  ye? 

r.iif^«  of  ^heT,  This  he  I?/'"?^"'^  •»-> 
»-.   home.    Hi'*.;^f„'nt,'\V"hi."'5nw'2J 


THE  ORPHAN'S  TALI. 


7S 


from  It,  and  became  acquainted  with  some  who 
made  no  good  use  of  the  influence  which  they 
acquired  over  his  generous  and  confiding  nature 

When   I   had   reached   the   age  of  fifteen,    my 
grandfather  died;    I  was  with   him   at    the    last 
received  his  parting  blessing,  and  closed  his  eyes! 
All  my  earthly  comfort  was  buried  in  his  grave.     I 
win  not  dwell  on  the  events  of  the  following  year  " 
Raphael  chose  not  to  unveil  to  the  eye  of  a  stran- 
ger scenes  of  riot  and  selfish  profusion  in  the  house 
which  the  memory  of  a  venerable  relative  had  to 
him  rendered  sacred.     He  would  not  relate  how 
Enrico     had     recklessly     squandered     his     young 
brother  8  inheritance  as  well  as  his  own,  exposing 
the  orphan  left  to  his  guidance  to  the  contamina- 
tion of  such  society  as  might  have  ruined  his  soul  as 
well  as  his  fortunes.     Raphael  was  tender  of  the 
reputation  of  a  brother  whom  he  yet  loved  with  the 
strength  of  that  affection  which  can  bear  all   hope 
all.  endure  all.     But  though  the  Rossignol  purJ)oseh^ 
left  out  all  the  darker  shades  of  the  picture,  Horace 
had  already  seen  enough  of  Enrico  to  fill  up  the 
outlines  for  himself.     After  a  brief  pause.  Raphael 
continued  his  narration:— 

•*I  was  sleeping  one  night  in  my  chamber,  when  I 
was  startled  from  slumber  by  the  sudden  entrance 
of  my  brother.  It  was  the  hour  before  dawn,  when 
darkness  ts  deepest;  I  could  not  see  his  face,  but  I 
was  alarmed  bv  the  grasp  of  his  icy  hand,  and  the 
strange,  altered  tone  of  his  voice.  'Raphael,'  he 
exclaimed  'we  must  fly!  I  am  a  ruined  man!  the 
bloodhounds  are  already  on  my  track!'  I  found 
afterwards  that  my  unfortunate  brother  had  been 
mixed  up  in  a  night-brawl,  in  which  a  man  of  high 
rank  had  been  killed,  and  that  Enrico  was  suspected 
—falsely  suspected* '—Raphael  laid  strong  emphasis 
on  the  word  — "of  having- dealt  the  fatal  blow, 
finncohad  no  means  of  proving  his  innocence :  he 
had  little  money  left,  and  nc  friends.  He  had  b«en 
the  victim  of  men  more  unscrupulous  and  reckless 


THE  ROBBERS-  CAVB. 


than  himself,  who  were  willine  to  screen  their  own 

.*f;p°sh.r^t,1o?tror-.    '  """"•■"""^  "*• 

v««l^®"  ^'  ^*'  through  no  error  of  your  own  that 

yott  became  associated  with  these  men  of  blo^?'-    * 

I  say  not  so,"  replied  Raphael    ouicklv    "nnr 

vnL*"'T- '°  ^"^'i^y  V  ^«^^  com'pHaTce  ^'  I  was 


yonng  ,„<!  i„experienc;d^  iraredX"  noTso  y'ou"' 


wa^'Sr r  ""^  ^"  -f  thTsnare^iL^S  I 
Thid  nnf  «^«  ?  "^f '  '^*''"®'^  °"  ^y  an  i"»Petus  which 
I  had  not  sufficient  strength  of  principle  to  resi^st 
My  own  views  of  religion  and  duty  we?e  dark      Mv 

stifle  Its  reproaches  by  supposed  good  deeds  whi  e 

JionS  &T  r^  l?"fir/^ting3  could,  as  I  thought 
atone  for  sharing  the  bootv  of  the  robber  (in  hiL 
worn  crimes,  thank  God.  f  never  share^f)  ^"pSr 
sued  ray  course  with  but  little  remorse     I  will^not 
weary  you  with  accounts  of   pilS-ima'ires  Td  h^?t 
shrines  made  with  bare  and  blSnT  ffc  .  nortl^ 
you  how  many  hours  at  night  were  often  seen*  in 
Ifuion?  fniS/'^^'  ^-^-^^^ooa  not      Vai^S^;" 
monkor  w  ttl^,  ^T^^'^'^'r  ^°  P"'  *^  «^««P  ^he  restkL 
luuowers.    My  youth,  and  perhaps  my  love  of  music 
and  my  slight  knowledge  of  the  heaHna  art   win 

shown  T«!'-P.'''^'^,  ^^'^1  ""^^  »"«"  <^oM  hfve 
comTL.  ^^""f  ^'''f  *°  '^^'^  P^^^^"*-®  and  to  their 
mTh?  J  *^t^  ^°^*^,  "^y  i^«*«  and  my  songs.  I 
mjght  say  whatever  I  liked-almost  do  whatever  I 

iwr?  n  '^'  'P""*^^  ^^"d  °^  ^h«  band  ••         ^ 
Home©    felt  no   surprise    that   the  gifted    bov 

live  e^eMlT?'^"  '"^  ^'""'"^  ^"  maifner,  shS^fd 
have  exercised    powers   of    fascination    oier   the 


HOW  THE  LIGHT  WAS  LIT. 


"How °s  lt"'Ii:t?"  ^'""^'f'^  tha„?"ked    " 
once "b^  led  ^hUd  of  tCba^nH^  *"'*°'^-  "'^'"  *". 

to  me  to-day  as  thouirh  vour  v*«;  i ; f  seemed 

lo?h"  Xr  °'^'  """  ""»  "•  '""y  'o  i«««r<i  .ii 

by"thVlfu!friV°'^'"  !'*p!!*^  R<^Vh<it\.  ",nd  I  hear 
•iesta  ir„v«r     w  ""  "'  "•'  «'"'«  ""at  the  band* " 

tSSH=---  - -feed" 
friend  ••  ^*''''^'  ^*^*^  >'°"  ^*"  <=»»  Raphael  « 

thf  ""tl^*  J*fi,^^*?PP°*"*«^  *t  *^«  interruption  to 


CHAPTER  XII. 
HOW  THE  LIGHT  WAS  LIT. 
.«?1E''*®^  *P*"*  ^^"^^ral  hours  in  visitinir  the  drlr 
"Si  theTorj'^  ™in\"°r?  deri  cte-'^lj 


•^»     S 


THE  l^OBBERS'  CAVE. 


fI*^l""?P^''i>'^*^  expected  on  the  way  to  Staiti 
the  bandits  departed  at  dawn  in  the  hope  of  inter! 
ctpting  it     They  went  off  in  high  spiSts.  except 
^:il^^^^'  gloomy  W^e  .Ls'Zll 

bag  of  ducats  with  which  to  line  my  purse.  He  puti 
one  hand  into  a  cavalier's  pocket,  and  with  the  ofhe? 

lTo?^':p  ^^  ''  ^^^^  ^°  -•     '  -»  ^-  th\^ 

1  *  '^  lj,on  more  given  to  roaring  than  to  fightinir  " 
laughed  Enrico;  but  the  laugh  was  suddfnly  fit 
short  as  he  caught  the  eye  of  his  brother.         ^ 

Raphael  approached  Enrico,  and  though  Horace 
could  not  dtstinguish  what  he  said  to  himfn  hisTow 
earnest  tone,  the  robber's  reply  was  mor^  audible  - 

bloodsheT"^^'^^  ^*^'  "^  '^""'"'-^  "^^y  P^^vent 
Enrico  had  the  same  uneasy,  vacillating  manner 

which  Horace  had  before  remarked,  and  the  nerve 

of  his  lip  twitched  violently. 
••Enrico,  keep  at  mv  side-"  called  out  Matteo 

clon'^^dSf  ^^'*^°^  ^  '''^'  ''  ^-^-«P'' 
h«!!Syff  *  ^^u  ^??^*«l  watched  the  departure  of  the 
K^        ^^l'  ^*"*^  "^^^^   '^^    «°"»«    time  with 

pirfrn  w''^' ''  ^^^^^  j^'^f ^  "P^"  ^^^  «?«*  where 
Enrico  had  disappeared  from  view,  and  with  an 
expression  of  such  anxious  care  on  his  face,  that 
Horace  did  not  venture  to  disturb  him.  Prcsintlv 
however,  the  pale  features  resumed  their  usual 
calmness,  and  Raphael,  turning  towards  the  captive 
proposed  that  they  should  renew  their  study  of  thi 
Scriptures.  ' 

Some  time  was  spent  in  this  occupation.     Horace 
was  beginning  to  regard  his  seat  under  the  oak  much 
as  he  regarded  his  place  in  the  old  village  church 
The  presctice  of  earnest  piety  had  seemed  to  isolate 
that  one  little  spot  from  all  the  rocks  around,  and 


HOW  THE  LIGHT  WAS  LIT. 


r- 

Pt 
Br 


y 

e 

it 

e 
t 


7» 

tn^wllot,  u  •  .  TH"'  "«'■«  Ponions  of  Scrip. 

;^^  *nwh  Horace  felt  that  he  should  alwav.  ten- 

!li,^'*.t."'   "-^"«»  that  he   could  never  hear 
KgTo'ltvdce"''"'''^  '"'  """-»•  '-"  ofTh" 

attindin^  hi,  carurTaSy''^p°L,'„;^^^^^^^ 

have    understood,    both    from    younwlf   anrt    fZJi 

°'Sf"i"  "'-^ ,">«  yp"*.  -that  you'^  UkTmyS?  k"ow 

^s^^L^^dr-"""'"- "'"'  '^"'  y-  "^'  ■■«°  y" »" 

.    "Simply  thus,"  replied  Raphael;  ••!  was  wanH*.r 
ing  slowly  through  the  woods  one' evenly  when  f 
hfr^V^P'^  «tep  behind    me.   and  on^umfnV 
beheld  Matteo  wounded,  bleeding.  gaspL    Hke  ^i 

f^u^?eran^:rrcL-L7£ii't'M 

Boy!*    he     exclaimed,    'they   are    noon    t««t 

Sfptain  "•  '^        "^  ^"^  P""^^  ^«>'»  your 

;i  obeyed,  was  fcllowed,  and  taken." 
^  rhen  your  generous  act  saved  the  chief?" 

It  was  a  mere  act  of  impulse,"  replied  Raohael. 

it  deserved  no  praise,   and  won  no^ratS     I 

WM  now  a   prisoner,    bound  and  guaFded      I  was 

I  rr!S  ^'T  T^  P^?^  ^°  *"°^h«^.  and  brouS^t  before 
a  tribunal  of  justice      There  wks  little  Ta  nsfme 

to  myTha^r'Th/r •'^S  'Tt'  ^"^^^  -'"^St'lSd 

*^uJ%y  °*"*'^'"-     *  was  known  to  be  *cnuafnt#»rf 

J^  b^ul'v^'d  tL'tl^r^H^'^  soldier,  X'Sel 
w^  ^thZ  ful^      '^'^  blood-money  for  his  capturj 

Atoned  for;  I  was  offered  freedom  nn^  •.„.-•!  L» 


THB  ROBBERS'  CAVBL 


would   betray  the  secret  haunts  of    Matteo      Of 
course  such  treachery  was  not  to  be  thought  of 

After  tedious  imprisonment  and   examinations 

before  various  authorities,  I  was  condemned  to  six 

months    labor  m  the  galleys,  rather  for  obstinate 

ro"^d  ''^  *"^    offence    which    could    be 

«   "What!"  exclaimed  Horace,  "was  not  the  re  mem- 

jrance  of  the  faithful  services  of  your  heroic  father 

sufficient  to  save  his  son  from  sc  harsh  a  sentence?" 

No  one  knew  my  parentage,"  replied  Raphael 

&nla'     "^^  T'    ,^""^  "5  \  ^^^'  ^sgraced.^on: 
demned,   I   jealously  guarded    the    honor   of    my 

tather  s  name  as  the  one  precious  possession  left  me 
which  would   never   be   tarnished   by  shame       It 
should  never  be  said  that  the  son  of  Raphael  Goldoni 
had  appeared  as  a  criminal  at  the  bar  of  justice'" 

Were  you  not  in  a  state  of  misery  on  hearing 
your  doom?"  asked  Horace.  "carmg 

••I  was  in  a  state  of  sullen  despair.  It  seemed  to 
me  as  if  there  were  no  help  for  me  on  earth  or  in 
heaven  I  was  an  outcast,  a  wretch  abandoned  by 
ray  fellow-creatures.  I  accused  them  of  cruelty  and 
injustice;  and,  what  was  far  worse,  my  soul  rose  in 
guilty  rebellion  against  the  decrees  of  Providence 
I  looked  upon  myself  as  a  sufferer  rather  for  the 
crimes  of  others  than  my  own,  forgetful  that  no  cir- 
cumstances could  justify  my  compliance  with  what  I 
had  known  to  be  evil.  Sometimes,  indeed,  con- 
science  oft  stifled,  would  make  itself  heard,  and 
then  the  icy  calm  of  despair  was  exchanged  for  a 
tempest  of  anguish,  such  as  almost  shook  reason 

lZ"Lll^  *?f  •  ^/«"^^^"o  ]onger  have  recourse  to 
the  miserable  refuge  offered  by  pilgrimage  or  nen- 
ance  Even  the  relief  of  confession  was  denied  me 
for  I  had  never  learned  to  go  in  simplicity  of  faith 
for  pardon  and  absolution  to  Him  who  heareth  in 
secret.  This  mortal  life  was  to  me  a»  a  prison,  and 
yet  I  clung  to  its  dark  walls,  for  I  saw  mihinz 
beyond  but  purgatory  fires,  which  made  the  thought 


8i 

sionate  Father  in  the  awful   inHT^'f  ^  ^°"^P^^«- 
trembled.     My  servirl  S^i  I  ^^^^^  ^®^"^«  whom  I 
sufferings  JZ  Those  of  a  sUve ''ft' °'  ^  ^'^"^'  "^^ 
than  the  iro..  which  fettered  rnvH^K'''*  ^^"'"^ 
which  entered  into  my  soul  '•      ^    ^^'  "^^^  ^^^ 
,  And  how  long  did  this  misery  last?" 
Not  ong,"  replied  the  Italian      •«!  «    i 
panions  in  punishment  were  chW^  k  T"^  my  com- 
m  the  galleys,  and  on  Ihe^ht;  ^!    ^H  '"^"^  '""^  '^^ 
was  coupled  with  a  man  ^^*^?^°^  »ny  labors  I 
struck   me  as    different  fmm.w"'^^'"  «-  «"^« 
prisoners.     He  was  not  old  ?„  ^""^    ""!    "»^    "^her 
was  bowed  by  sTffer"nL  It.  ^'^'''''  ^"^  ^'^  ^o^-^ 
silver  were  his^ locks  and^tSehrT'^i.^"^  ^^»t«  ^s 
almost  tohiseirdle     h^,     ,  ^l"*^^  ^^'ch  descended 
in  the  dign  ty  of  consSn.  r''^^  '"^  ^^^"^  ^"^  resigned 
first  glaSce  UvS  n^e  'T,'"'"'''  ^^^'  ^^^«^he 
my  side.     Had  I  been  in  o  1     *^  ,"°  crmiinal  was  at 

•nt  mood.  I  shou^'Lve'qr/stlorS^  '"'  "^^P^"^' 
Panion;  but  I  had  lost  aH  imific."  If  ^  "^^  «^o"^- 
what  was  passing  around  mr  V"  ^'\^^^  "^^«  ^«»' 
such  was  his  nfme)  sSokf «  f.  ''''"  '?^"  ^«"n« 
greeting  to  his  pWerfn^;?/^^  "^^l^"  ^^^  ^i«dlv 
my  head  in  re  pi?  and  pretVt°^'""*^'  ^  ^"^^  ^«^^ed 
I  thought  that  thi  galley  sTaveni?^^  «'^^°^«- 

.rf-^  shrank  iom^  ^l^^^^ ^^Id^eJ 

at'o^u^  i?LTt%t^CraTe?-  h  ^^  ^'^^  ^°  -- 
burning  rays  of  the  sun   wmI       hour    under  the 

f»«.lln|  glLe   from  The  wate'^s'^'Tilf''^"^.^'^^ 
ttawonted  and  nrofrftoM^i    ,^5®*®-     ^  *elt  as  i£  the 

very  life  .way,''a™d  T'^^w '?ha7  mv"  """.'"^  ""^ 
was  weaker,  suffered  y«moS  th/.  ~""''','i''  "•"• 

la.t,.  WHUe  -"  e'/yarX^'l^'.  ^/^^^ 


v» 


83 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVB, 


was  humming  a  light  lay  of  love,  or  quaffing  cool 
draughts  of  sparkling  wine.  He  took  no  notice  of 
the  exhausted  rowers,  except  to  express  impatience 
at  the  slow  progress  which  they  made.  At  length 
the  keel  grated  on  the  shore,  we  lifted  our  oars,  and 
the  cavalier  stepped  on  the  beach.  There  were  gay 
fnends  to  welcome  him  there,  and  take  him  with 
them  to  cool  orauge-groves  and  glittering  fountains 
towards  which  we  wearily  turned  our  longing  eyes* 
There  with  fair  and  high-born  ladies  would  he  enjoy 
the  feost,  the  dance,  and  the  song,  while  we  sat 
thirsty,  weary,  neglected—the  very  outcasts  of  man- 
kmd. 

"My  companion  addressed  me  again,  in  a  voice  so 

faint  that  I  could  at  first  scarcely  catch  his  meaning 

Is  It  not  well,  my  son,   he  murmured,  'that  there 

is  Oru  who  hath  said,  *Xomi  unto  Me  ail  ye  that 

Mifor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you 

"The  words  sounded  strange  to  me,  and  I  replied 
with  sullen  despair,  'There  is  no  rest  for  me--iio 
not  even  in  the  grave!'  ' 

"  'Then  you  have  nev^r  yet  come  to  Him,  never 
yet  found  the  Savior,'  said  Marino;  'you  have  not 
yet  accepted  His  invitation;  perhaps  till  this  dav 
you  never  heard  it. ' 

"This  was  so  unlike  any  address  to  which  I  had 
hitherto  listened  on  the  subject  of  religion,  that  it 
instantly  arrested  ir.y  attention.  Fresh  from  the 
pure  fount  of  Truth  came  the  words  which  Marino 
now  uttered.  Parched  as  I  was  with  feverish  thirst 
With  a  force  which  I  cannot  describe  came  espe- 
cially one  blessed  verse,  which  I  have  ever  since 
r^arded  as  the  very  breathing  of  infinite  love. 
And  the  S/trtt  and  the  Pride  say,  Come,  attd  let 
fnm  that  Heareth  say,  Come;  and  let  him  that  is 
Mktrst,  come;  and  whosoever  will,  ht  him  take  of  tht 
water  of  life  freely:  ^ 

"That   day, -that  sultry,  exhausting  day,"  con- 
tmucd  Raphael,  cla-sping  his  hands  as  he  spoke,  "I 


HOW  THE  HOHT  WAS  LIT. 


«3 

ITiLVl  ZrnlTi^^Li'  "^y  ^^"^-     ''  was  then 

pardoSreven  for  the  chtl'%''*'  ^^'^''"'  ^""'  ^'^"^ 
wasloJ.. Tnfi„A     1        *^"'®^  ®^  sinners;  that  thcra 

pun  shment.    I  had  J^n  i«i  "®  ^^''^^^  ^^  J^s 

forth  God's  Word  wtLtnh-      "*  ^'f*'  ^""^  •'«''«• 
Peac..  and,  I  .rS'.Xe'rft'er^.^ol^r;  ^?  ^"''-  »° 

the  wind  through  the  wood  ^  '^*  '^8^^  ^^ 

Who  wae  Marino,"  inquired  Horace-  **or.A  v 
came  so  good  a  n,an  to  b^e  worlin^i^  WeSlt'thl 

^^^^n^tit'VT^^^^^^^  ^-  *  very 

P«ctod,"  replied  Raphael  '^mI^.^  ^  ^^"^  J''^^"  «"«' 
•fterwirds  from  hfmself  h«H  l'""*'  ''^  ^  ^*^^^"«d 
••dicine.  brought  uS^fn  the  Rn  ^-T.  ^  ''"^*^°^  *^^ 

.Uncej  or  m?h^er\S?7eidLfo?td-i'Lv'?r""^* 
had  taken  him  to  England  wLre^-t/°'^*,^^"*=*'' 
years,  and  where  he  Sad  acauired  t}^^ '""^^^.^^  ^^^ 
edge  of  the  language  but  of  the  In t»,  <>"  X  *  knowL 
land  is  guarded  and  ^ri^L  l^^^  '"'^'"'^  ^"  ^^^'^ 
remained  honored  an/^I  ^^""°  "^'^ht  have 

communion  he  Mned^'CTe"^  *'r  ^;^"«^ 
darkness  of  ignorance  ih ml, i^  u  ^^^"8:^^  «f  the 
country  he  tWh*  «Ak  k  *"^  his  own  beautiful 
in  wSch  hfs  fellow  dtL^"^*^"  '^^  «nperstitlon 
returned    toX  a  milsion^^^^^  ^**""o 

Followinfir  thrL,LJ^lr^P.''2  ^!'  h!«  «>^n  people. 

xr  i        -i    «:a    «4„5jci     ivi    tJig    path    of 


«4 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


self-dcnying  labor,  he  soon  tracked  the  holy  foot- 
prints through  sufferings  also.  You  know,  doubtless, 
that  with  Italians  it  is  held  a  crime  to  search  the 
Scriptures;  doubly  a  crime  to  teach  others  to  do  so. 
Marmo  for  both  offences  was  sentenced  for  three 
years  to  the  galleys.  Alas!  broken  down  as  he  was 
by  hardship  and  trial,  his  life  did  not  last  out  the 
term." 

•'Was  it  not  much  to  be  regretted,"  observed 
Horace,  "that,  instead  of  laboring  where  he  could 
have  labored  in  safety,  this  good  man  threw  away 
freedom,  and,  as  it  proved,  life  itself,  upon  such  a 
desperate  venture?" 

"/have  no  reason  to  say  so,"  replied  the  Rossig- 
nol  with  deep  feeling.     "Marino  was  silenced  from 
preaching  the  gospel  to  freemen,  that  he  might  carry 
the  glad  tidings  to  slaves!    Who  can  say  that  he 
lived  or  that  he  died  in  vain?     I  was  not  the  only 
wretched  outcast  over  whose  darkness  he  shed  light, 
though  to  none  was  he  such  a  friend,  such  a  father 
as  he  was  to  me.     When  his  spirit  passed  away,  I 
felt  that  for  the  third  time  my  earthly  stay  had 
been  wrenched  from  my  hold,  but  now  I  was  not  left 
desolate.     Marino  had  led  me  to  the    Rock— the 
changeless  —  the    everiasting!"      Raphael's    voice 
faltered  as  he  continued,  covering  his  eyes  with  his 
hand:     "When    they  dropped  his   lifeless  remains 
into  the  sea,  without  funeral  rite,  without  toll  of 
bell,  without  even  a  coffin  to  shroud  them;  when 
the  waves  of  the  Mediterranean  rolled  over  the  spot 
where  slept  the  friend  I  loved  best  upon  earth,  even 
then  God  sent  thoughts  of  comfort— of  triumph— 
into  my  soul.     I  knew  that  Marino  would  rise  again, 
incorruptible,    immortal,    glorious;    that    the    sea 
•hould  give  up  her  dead  and  the  Savior  reclaim  His 
own.     And  I  knew  that  there  was  something  left 
also  for  me— an  object  in  life,  as  well  as  a  hope  in 
death."  ^ 

••What  was  that  object?"  asked  Horace. 
Raphael  seemed  unable  to  give  an  audible  reply. 


HOW  THE  LIGHT  WAS  LIT. 


8S 


SVl'iS*v''T'"*"'^y  *^'^  ^^^^««  °^  ^>8  Testament 
and  laid  his  finger  upon  this  verse:     ''The  love  of 

OnTJT/''''V/' V'  ^''^''"  "''  thus  judJ^^^^^^ 
Sw  f      (f:,  ""^^^Z^^'**  -'re  all  dead;  anS  that    Je 

Mm/"      ^''''w^^/tvj.  but  unto  Him  which  died /or 

Horace  remained  for  a  space  with  his  eves  riveted 
upon  the  passage,  marveling  how  he  h^d  neter 
before  seen  how  it  contains  not  only  the  ground  of  a 

^„.i''' WK  ^''^'^  ^"'  "^  *  Christian's  wiuLg  obedi 
ence.     What  is  true  religion  but  "a  personal  W 

.?;aL?/^"°tf  .^^ri^^       /^.^/  rw  ir 

i/1  ^^"^  '*  ^^®  ^«»'y  watchword  of  the  soldier 

of  the  cross  upon  the  battle-field  of  life  Not  to  Hve 
to  self,  but  unto  God;  not  to  do  our  own  wi  1  but 
Gods  will;  to  make  His  love  our  inspiW  motive 

iil^  ?-y  ?"'  ^"?  ^"^  aim;-this  is  the  olim  thi 
only  object   worthy  of  an  immortal  soul.       ^      ' 

conve?Lt1ol^"^''^T^"''^  P^"'^  .""'^^«  ^««""^«d  the 
conversation.       I  am  surprised,"  said  he   **that  nn« 

whose  whole  character  had  been  changed  like  yours 
Hkelhis' •"  '"''  '""^^^  ^^^'  ^"  ^  clen  VwickeS 
"When  Marino  departed,"  replied  Ranhapl  •',«« 
dx  months  of  duranc^e  had 'almo^s  come  To  J  'clo^^ 
Often  and  anxiously  I  revolved  in  imr  m°nd  wh^t 
course  it  would  be  right  to  pursue  aL^^Tshoufd 
have  regained  my  freedom.  ^Sometimes  I  almo.i 
decided  upon  working  my  way  to  England  •  at  oThe J 
times  I  proposed  returning  to  Naplfs  "eekin.^  m.f 

^Ti^L'TS.T'''''^?'  "^>'  ^-n' "th^r  'an?  try! 
nf^il  ^?  their  assistance  to  make  my  entrance 
nto  his  profession.     Amidst  my  various  proiects  one 

h^o^sesTot^hf/  ^^^"^""^.to  «"y  min"r'A'\'o  d'er 
chwses  not  his  own  post;  it  was  my  one  simple  dutv 

L  wha't  Hfw?,?^^  Leader  woufd  have  mfto  b^^ 
wid  what  He  would  have  me  to  do.  More  and  mowi 
strongly  the  conviction  came  that  nowhere  was  Hghl 
more  needed,  and  into  no  place  was  it  lol  ififJ!??,* 


Im.  X 


THE   ROBBERS'  CAVE, 
penetrate,    than    into    thi»    robbers'    cave      H*.r- 

•You  were  throwing:  yourself  Into  the  midst  of 
great  temptations,"  observed  Horace 

I  felt  that— I  feel  it,"  replied  RaDhflcl-  ••o«/i 
l^tcherJ/'^^^'  Presumptio'n,  and  clSscTy  hav'el 
!fl  p  ™^^'''^"  "motives  for  running  so  £Tcat  a 
was*  a  nee'd  o^'  ^"1"^-^'  t«.  ^^  ^onscio^s  tha^TtSerS 
wf  ??  °  °5  exp  aining  his  position  in  order  to 
justify  his  conduct.  "I  knew  that  there  were  cSum 

to  plant  my  foot  where  by  another  man  no  standing 
ground  could  have  been  found  T  was  kno^ 
amongst  the  banditti,  liked,  favored  .Srhaos^ 
IZnM  '^'""'^  "P'^"  '^^'  favor,  as  I  cenainTdii 
SSlvcapUil^^i'"^^^"^^  ^'  ^--^  -ved  theM 
;;But  the  danger!"  exclaimed  Horace  Cleveland 

r  h  J  n^.l-'^'^  T^'H^  ^"'  ^«~  J'f«  to  be  hazard^' 
I  had  nothing  else  that  I  could  lose-not  even  a  f!S; 
reputation.     I  had   neither    father  nor   moSier  tn 

tTe"band''  LY  ^"^  '  ^^'^*^*'^'  ^^^^  "a's  o'ne  ^f 

WMthehnn.  Jk^P'  my  St  o.    est  earthly  incentive 

"a nrl^P       ^^'""^  ^^"^  ^  °f  winning  his  soul. ' ' 

And  how  were  you  rt<:tf;<vc^  by  the  banditti  " 

inq-^red  Horace,  who  re^:  vlecl  this^profect  of  p k^^^^^ 

n,ffi«n.  ^°"!t  "''',T""  '"  *"«  'n'dst  of  a  gaSg  of 
ruffians  as  the  wildest,  most  iirnracticable  schemi 
which  enthusiasm  had  ever  de^-ised.  ""^ 

warm  thVTir^  7'^ll  *,w«l^«"^e  »o  cordial  and 
warm,  that  it  almost  shook  my  resolution  to  strio 

TyTeJim'TiL"'  nr.^T  ^^°-  ^^«  "«^o°^? 

»^«  f    »?•  .  ^  ^**  enabled,  however,  to  speak  out 

hi„H  ^^■~:'l°^"  ^^*'  ^  <^*««  not  to  rej^hi  The 
band  to  eat  bread  that  was  won  by  robbery  or  to 
touch  go  d  that  was  stained  with  bfood-to  L  [ha? 
if  the^ outlaws  desired  it  I  would  tend  their  sS  and 
do  what  other  kindly  offices  I  migh^  w  thout  wou„^^^ 
mg  my  conscience-but  that  I  ^a.  no'MSe  nlmtr 


NOW  THE  LIGHT  WAS  LIT. 


no  com  promise     ith 


•nd  scn^ant  of  One  who  suffer' 
•in." 

••I  should  have  liked  to  have  heard  such  an 
*!«!?.   u  '°  ''1'^**  "^«"'"  exclaimed    Horace. 

..IT.f°  r^u\     **"  the  countenance  of  Matteo  as  yoii 

3?^  Jn^?*-  ^"'  'H^^^^  ^•''^'"^  i"'o  the  lion's 
Uen,  and  laying  your  hand  on  ills  mane.  How  was 
your  stninge  offer  received?" 

"With  bursts  of  laughter  and  niockin.'  jests  I 
believe  that  some  of  the  banditti  deemed  that 
imprisonment  had  affected  my  brain  " 

«  ,fi T7u^  "f ' ^' ^^'*^' ' ' returned  Horact  ,d  you 

not  find  It  hard  to  stand  against  the  storm  o       acule?" 

fco^^  ^^,?  ^"*^  '  *^"^"^'  cowered  beneath  it.  I 
h!?»  .S^'K^'^'^tr'''  "°*^^"8r  beyond  such  ridicule  to 
\l^  ..  A-^'  ^°^^e"  were  amused-not  infuriated. 
My  conditions  were  mirthfully  accepted.  I  wai 
elected  with  shouts  as  friar  and  father  confessor  to 
the  band,  and  was  given  full  leave  to  pray  and  to 
fast  ftH  long  as  it  might  suit  my  pleapure  to  do  so." 
The    outlaws    doubtless     thought,"     observed 

?aSg'faicy''^'"'  ''""'"'^"°  ^^^  ^"'  ^"^«  ^'^'^^^ 

Ai^^hir.   ^  '^*'  u^^y  promised  themselves  much 

ZiL  X     u^'^^  ^^."".^  '^**  *^°"^h  they  might  be 
m  jest,  the  object  of  their  mockery  was  in  earnest 
opposition  assumed  a  different  form. "  tamest, 

..i^^S*  ^*"^  persecuted,  threatened,  tormented," 
^A.u^^^\  reco  lecting   the  lacerated    shoulder 

a  witn^J^     ^^         °^  ^^^^**  ^^  ^""^  ^'"'^^^^  ^®®" 

«h«ii^i?ifi  ""^*  '?"8^*'  discipline,"  answered  Ra- 
phael lightly,    'such  as  every  soldier  must  look  for 

W?v!;°i  !J  ""^T^^^  fy.*^^^  ""^^^  '^  by  remember: 
ing  the  words  of  my  father~if  applicable  to  earthly 
warfare,  how  much  more  so  to  the  heavenly'— 'The 

rJ^i^lJi.lb^.*^*  ^°'<^>«»*  >8  «'"^P^e.  prompt,  unswerv- 
i«ij  vwwUiwace,  svcu  uutu  tieaihi'  " 


MICROCOPY   RESOLUTION   TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


"       3.2 


U 


li     u 


1.4 


13.6 


14.0 


II  ^-^ 

12.2 
2.0 

i.8 


!.6 


^  APPLIED  IfVMGE    Inc 

^5u  1653  East   Main   Street 

r'.S  Rocliester,   New  York        14609       USA 

•*=  (716)   482  -  OJOO-Ptione 

^=  (716)   288-  5989  -Fax 


88 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


"But  does  it  not  damp  your  spirit,"  asked  Horace, 
"to  find  that  you  labor  and  suffer  in  vain?" 

A  thoughtful,  pensive  expression  sat  on  the  brow 
of  the  young  Italian  as  he  replied,  "Is  there  not  a 
promise  that  such  labor  shall  not  be  in  vain?  I 
have  not  much  to  cheer  me,  I  own,  as  regards  any 
little  efforts  of  my  own ;  yet  the  village  youth  whom 
I  am  now  going  to  visit  has  begun  to  pray  in  ear- 
nest, and  in  the  Savior's  name  alone.  Sometimes  I 
think  that  in  my  brother's  bosom  a  better  spirit  is 
stirring,  though  he  is  hedged  round  with  difficulties 
whose  greatness  a  stranger  cannot  fully  under- 
stand. God  will  give  Enrico  to  me;  while  life 
remains,  I  will  never  cease  to  pray  for  my  brother, 
and  He  in  whom  I  trust  will  grant  me  my  heart's 
desire." 

The  sigh  which  followed  came  from  a  burdened, 
but  yet  a  confiding  heart. 

"Oh  yes,"  cried  Horace,  anxious  to  efface  the 
painful  impression  caused  by  a  thoughtless  question, 
"you  will  not  suffer  without  reward.  I  know  not 
whether  you  will  care  to  hear  it,  but  I  must  tell  you 
one  thing.  Though,  from  my  cradle,  I  have  heard 
a  great  deal  about  religion,  I  have  never  thought  so 
seriously  upon  the  subject  as  you  have  made  me  do 
during  these  last  few  days.  If  I  ever  become  a  real 
Christian — a  faithful  soldier,  as  you  would  say — I 
shall  trace  the  beginning  of  an  earnest  life  to  these 
hours  which  I  have  spent  with  you  under  this  oak." 

The  pale  face  of  Raphael  lighted  up  with  an 
express' 3n  of  joy,  as  when  a  sunbeam,  bursting 
from  behind  a  cloud,  throws  over  a  still  stream  a 
pathway  of  glory.  The  smile  was  so  bright,  so  sud- 
den, so  angel-like  in  its  gladness,  that  it  often  in 
future  days  recurred  to  the  memory  of  Horace. 
Raphael  grasped  his  hand  with  the  warmth  of  a 
brother,  but  without  commenting  upon  what  he  had 
said;  and  the  improvisatore  soon  afterwards  de- 
scended to  the  forest  to  go  on  his  errand  of  mercy 
to  the  sick. 


"% 


FAILURE. 


89 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


FAILURE. 

Not  the  example  and  influence  of  Raphael  alone 
tended  to  ripen  good  resolutions  in  the  mind  of  the 
captive;  much  resulted  from  the  effect  of  the  long 
hours  of  solitude  in  which  reflection  was  forced  upon 
him.  To  one  of  Horace's  lively  temper  and  active 
disposition,  meditation  had  appeared  to  be  of  all 
occupations  the  most  tedious  and  unprofitable,  as 
long  as  study  or  amusement  could  fill  up  each  wak- 
ing hour.  It  was  thus  that  little  wisdom  had  been 
gained  while  a  good  deal  of  knowledge  had  been 
acquired,  and  that  even  the  lessons  of  experience 
had  made  but  small  impression  upon  Horace  Cleve- 
land. He  had  haa  his  day-dreams,  it  is  true,  and 
his  schemes  of  ambition,  but  neither  had  been 
calmly  reviewed  in  the  sober  light  of  truth.  Now, 
having  nothing  else  to  do,  Horace  perforce  must 
think;  and  the  result  of  reflection  was  that  the 
proud  lad,  who,  exalted  by  conscious  superiority 
over  his  companions,  had  feared  comparison  with 
no  one,  now  felt  mortified  and  even  disgusted  with 
himself.  He  recalled  circumstances  that  had  once 
elated  him;  he  remembered  the  trophies  won  by 
intellectual  or  physical  eiTorts ;  all  their  glitter  and 
glory  seemed  gone.  When  the  youth  recollected 
how  utterly  he  had  ignored  "the  only  object  in  life 
worthy  of  an  immortal  soul, ' '  he  felt  little  cause  to 
exult  at  having  won  the  prize  at  the  examination,  or 
the  honors  at  foot-ball  or  the  boat-race.  These 
things  were  indeed  good  in  themselves,  but  what 
were  they  compared  to  the  crown  of  life  towards 
which  the  soldiers  of  the  cross  were  pressing? 
Horace  thought  of  the  heroes  of  old,  to  emu- 
late whom  had  been  his  ambition:  he  compared 
^ssar  and  Alexander  with  Marino  the  galley*slave 


i:\ 


90 


THE  R0BBBR8'  CAVB. 


li 


iS! 


WW 


-they,  sweeping  like  a  pestilence  over  the  earth- 
he  employing  his  dying  breath  in  leading  his  feW 
sufferer  to  God  What  were  the  different  results  of 
theirlabors?  The  warriors  had,  as  it  were,  sent  up 
a  blazing  rocket  to  startle  the  world,  fall  ng  in  a 
shower  of  dazzling  sparks  that  glittered  awh"fe,  and 
then  expired.  The  galley-slave  had  been  the 
^?strumeni  in  God's  hand  of  lighting  a  star  tW 
monl^^'^r.  if  *^^  fin^amentofllissihen  sun  and 

c^o^^tffrrljlJdf^  th/g^S^^Vhth 

•'Raphael  has  been  given  a  difficult    a  n^rii/Mio 

t'o  m^P  %l\  ^^T'.*  ?^^^^^^  "^"'  ^S  ^d 
to  me?    He  tnes  to  influence  for  good  the  lowest 

enf7«^'i  -J  j'u  ^i"^ i ^^^*  ^  ^^^  ^^ power  to  Mu 
wlt\A  '   ^  ^^*^' J.hat  «se  did  I  ever  make  of  it? 
Was  D  -  I  also  a  soldier  of  the  cross>" 

hi.  i,nt^?r'^  '1'"??''^^  *^^*'  '^  ^^^^  permitted  to  see 
his  mother  and  his  country,  he  would  pursue  a  less 
selfish  course  than  that  which  he  had  hitherto 
followed      His  heart  grew  heavy  as  he  thoughrof 

tselfaf ^  ''JtVv  f  '^T'''''  ''  ^^^°«t  prefented 
Iroi;  A  ^  probabihty-.\.\i^t  he  would  never  be 
granted  an  opportunity  of  redeeming  the  past  Verv 
bitter  was  it  to  him  now  to  recall  how  hi^s  petuS 
and  pride  had  distressed  his  mother,  to  uiow  that 
he  had  added  weight  to  the  widow's' cross?^nstead 
of  helping  her  to  support  it.  "You  have  Dlanted 
many  a  thorn  in  my  pillow!"  Were  not  these 
almost  the  last  words  that  he  had  heird  f°om  her 
loving  lips?  had  he  not  seen  her  weep  for  Ae 
undutifulness  of  her  only  son  ?  If  a  brother's  bl<Sd 
was  once  said  to  cry  from  the  earth,  would  noTa 
mother's  tears  do  so  also?  "^u  noi  a 

Horace  arose  from  his  seat,  restless  and  miserable  • 

^"'Sfit^"^ '°"^S!^^"C'  ^°  something  to  drive  ??om 
him  distracting  thoughts.  Raphael  left  his  guit^ 
leaning  against  the  rock.     Horace  took  it  urfand 


FAILURE  pj 

fr^i  h's  hand  over  the  strings;  he  could  produce 
sound  but  not  music.  No  melody  came  from  the 
strong  but  objectless  touch.  He  put  down  the 
instrument  again  it  only  brought  back  again  the 
theme  of  his  painful  reflections.  Had  he  not  struck 
life  s  chords  with  the  same  careless  hand,  and  had 
they  not  given  forth  jarring  discord? 

Jnable  to  play,  the  prisoner  attempted  to  sing  in 
order  to  while  away  the  wearisome  hours.  He 
triea  to  wake  the  mountain  echoes  with  some  of  the 
bold,  spirited  ays  which  he  had  sung  with  his  com- 
rades at  school.  Then  a  pLMntive  strain  came  to  his 
remembrance;  Horace  had  often  heard  his  mother 
sing  It,  and  he  associated  her  voice  with  each  word 
It  seenied  so  well  suited  to  his  own  sad  estate,  his 
fallen  hopes,  once  so  bright  and  gladsome,  that 
givin.T  utterance  to  his  feelings  in  the  poet's  ap- 
proprii^te  lines,  he  sang  Moore's  well-known  lay:—. 

"All  that's  brigiii  must  fade. 
A  ,?^  brightest  still  the  fleetest 
All  that's  sweet  was  made 

But  to  be  lost  when  sweetest  I 
Stars  that  shine  and  fall. 

The  flower  that  drops  in  spriniriiiff. 
These,  alas,  are  types  of  all  '^     *    ** 

To  which  our  hearts  are  clinging! 

"Who  would  seek  or  prize 

Delights  that  end  in  aching/ 
Who  would  trust  to  ties 

That  every  hour  are  breakinirl 
Bette-  far  to  be 

In  utter  darkness  lying, 
Thau  be  blest  vith  light,  and  see 

That  light  for  ever  flying !" 


but   not   true!"  exclaimed 


a   voice 


"Beautiful, 
beside  him. 

rr.^rS'^''^  ^^U^!^-  ^"^J  ^""""^^  ^°""^  ?    ^'^  had  bceU  SO 

much  absorbed  in  the  train  of  ideas  awakened  by 
the  words,  that  he  had  not  heard  Raphael  ascend- 
mg  .he  rocks,  nor  been  aware  that  the  mournful 
Bong  had  reached  any  ear  but  his  own. 


9t 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


(*i 


m 


'Sing  it  again,"  said  the  improvisators 
Horace  felt  some  reluctance  to  comply  with  the 
request  from  une  who  was  himself  a  master  of  the 
musical  art;  he  would  rather  have  listened  than 
sung.  At  Raphael's  desire,  however,  he  repeated 
the  stram,  the  improvisatore  listening  intently  and 
keeping  time  to  the  music  with  his  hand. 

And  now  let  me  hear  you,"  said  Horace-  ''and 
let  us  have  something  more  cheerful." 

Raphael  took  up  his  guitar,  and  struck  a  few 
chords  full  of  harmony  and  tone  in  a  different  and 
far  richer  key  than  that  in  which  Horace  had  been 
singing.  He  afterwards  remained  for  several  min- 
ntes  silent,  gathering  and  arranging  his  thoughts. 
mJ  .  t  °®  yo"^  echo,"  he  then  said  with  a  smile- 
but  I  will  give  bacK  your  notes  in  more  joyous 
strain,  less  meet  for  the  poet,  but  more  for  the 
Christian;"  and  catching  up  the  air,  Raphael  sang 
in  Italian  as  follows:— 

"Earth's  bright  hopes  must  fade, 

Not  those  which  grace  hath  given  i 
Joys  were  fleeting  made, 

But  not  the  joys  of  heaven ! 
Stars  that  shine  above, 

And  flowers  that  cannot  wither. 
These  are  types  of  peace  and  love 

That  shall  abide  for  everl 

••Who  that  seeks  the  skies 

Would  mourn  earth's  pleasures  bli^htad. 
Weep  o'er  broken  ties 

Soon  to  be  re-united ! 
Blest  e'en  awhile  to  be 

In  darkness  and  in  sorrow, 
Assured  we  soon  the  dawn  shall  sea 

Of  an  eternal  morrow!" 

Raphael  did  not  lay  down  his  guitar  The  last 
thought  seemed  to  link  itself  on  to  another  and 
changing  the  mournful  .•<  to  a  burst  of  triumphant 
melody  which  appeared  to  well  up  fresh  from  a 
deep  spring  of  joy  within  him,  the  Rossignol  poured 
forth  m  his  richest  tones  the  following 


FAILURE. 


93 


SONG  OP  HOPE. 

Now  In  the  east  Hope's  trembling  light 
Proclaims  a  brighter  dawning; 

Though  woe  endureth  for  a  night, 
Joy  cometh  in  the  morning! 

For  many  weary  ages  past 

Hath  sin's  dark  night  prevailing 
A  gloom  o'er  all  the  nations  cast, 

Whence  rose  the  sounds  of  wailing! 
The  idol-gods  have  many  a  shrine 

Where,  bound  in  chains  of  error. 
Myriads,  shut  out  from  light  divine. 

Crouch  down  in  shame  and  terror! 
But  in  the  east  Hope's  rosy  light 

Proclaims  a  brighter  dawning; 
Though  woe  endureth  for  a  night, 

Joy  cometh  in  the  morning! 

Like  Cynthia  from  her  silvery  car, 

The  Church  could  darkness  lighten; 
Each  high  example,  like  a  star. 

Shone  forth  to  cheer  and  lighten. 
But  I  shall  need  nor  star  nor  moon 

In  that  clear  day  before  me, 
The  sun  of  righteousness  shall  soon 

Burst  forth  in  cloudless  glory  I 
Yes,  in  the  east,  Hope's  kindling  light 

Proclaims  a  brighter  dawning; 
Though  woe  endureth  for  a  night, 

Joy  cometh  in  the  morning. 


n: 


•Hark!"  exclaimed  Horace  suddenly, 
bers  are  in  the  wood!" 


(• 


the  rob- 


The  music  had  scarcely  died  on  the  lips  of  Ra- 
phael. His  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  sky  as  if  al- 
ready beholding  in  its  blue  depths  the  signs  of  the 
coming  triumph.  He  turned  them  now  towards  the 
forest,  and  something  of  the  brightness  of  hope 
lingered  in  them  as  he  said,  leaning  over  the  rocky 
parapet  to  gaze: 

"They  bring  no  prisoners,  I  see  no  spoil.  They 
have  been  disappointed  again  of  their  prey." 


94 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVR 


I'::, 


The  gang  of  robbers  wore  a  very  different  aiV  frr^tr, 
what  they  had  done  in  the  moSng  as  sTowTv  a°^^ 

the  pl^form  in  front  of  the  cave.  On  Enrico's  face 
alone  Horace  fancied  that  he  could  detect  an  exVres 
sion  of  relief,  as  his  eye  met  that  of  his  brother.^'''' 
frr^J.  y  ^ever  came,  though  we  watched  for  them 
from  sunrise  till  sunset!"  criec^  one  of  the  band^ 
;i  take  It  they've  put  off  their  journey  tin  the  mo^' 
row  Some  woman's  whim,  I'll  be  bound  for  we 
-  w  ^nf^^  ^  ^^^"^^^  i"  the  party. "  '  ^^ 

i®il/"^^®  ^^^^  P^y  <^ear  for  our  lost  time  " 
growled  Matteo  with  an  oath,  as  with  the  back  o?  his 
rough  hand  he  wiped  his  heated  brow 

I  say,"  exclaimed  Beppo.  with  a  mfllitrno«^ 
scowl  at  Raphael,  "we'll  neTr' hlriuck  witSh 
a  preaching,  praying  heretic  amongst  us  What's 
the  use  of  our  burning  candles  to  the  Madonna  o? 
vowmg  what  best  we  can  spare  to  the  s^Sits'  ^f 
weVe  him  praying  hard  against  us?"  '  '^ 

The  saints  and  the  blessed  Virgin  Marv 
wouldn't  listen  to  him,"  cried  Marco,  croTngS 
self  as  he  mentioned  the  Madonna's  name     ^ 

fhJ  '*  ^^^iJ^'^  P^'^y^^^  SO  higher  and  strai^hter 

than  ours  go,  Marco,"  said  Beppo:  "and  thev  cai! 
do  something  down  here  belowror  Srico  wouM 
not  have  hung  back  as  he  did  to-day  "  ^^^ 

«v     Mi°°^^^°F  ^ack,"  fiercely  retorted  Enrico 

You'll  prove  but  a  hollow  reed  at  the  pinch  " 

said  Beppo.  who  looked  quite  ready  to  defend  his 

nS^Vw  ^''?  «°.^^thing  harder  thS  words      ^Did 

not  that  psalm-singing  brother  of  yours  do  all  that 

nls^TlJfs  lTd?;p^.^°^  ^^^"^  ^^^^'^-'  ^^^ 

ni:;^nVS?o?^^^^^^     ^--'  -°^^-^ 

vicl?'^  ^°''  """"K  ''"^^  ^®PP°»  ^«in^  to  the  impro- 
visatore.  upon  whom  every  eye  was  now  bent  ^ 

"ve    SI,     which  was  the  only  reply  of  Raphael. 


.HI;. 


m 
Id 
to 

:e 


n 


TIDINGS. 


95 


»^7J^,u^^'^^?  ^''"l'.',  e'^claimed  Matteo,  striding 
lelthtm  beir        '  '  ^^"^  ^"""^^^^  ^"  ^''^ 

usl'^ld' Bep^pr '  ^'^^  °"'  ^"^^^^  "^^'^^^  --P« 

sa;;^:^  tfan-betr/^"-  '  "^^^^^^  ^^"«°'  --« 
Raphael  met  his  fierce  gaze  with  unblenching  eye 

and  again  briefly  answered  *'si."  s   j"=, 

Horace  held  his  breath,  as  one  who  sees  a  wild 

rfwM  -i  >i'  ^  expected  every  moment  to  see  Ra- 

hSSilf  wi?r^  ^'  ^^'  ^'^''  ^^«"  ^^"^°  contented 
wmf  1.!^  I  S^^°^L^«fif  *^«t  a  curse  and  a  threat,  and 
with  the  other  robbers  sauntered  into  the  cave  the 
youth  could  hardly  believe  that  the  improvIsVore 
bore  not  mdeed  a  charmed  life,  and  that  some 
mvisible  circle  of  protection  had  been  drawn  arouni 
him  by  a  hand  unseen. 
••Hcv  could  you  dare  to   brave   so  his  furv>" 

wn^f^T     ^f""^?  ^"^  Rossignol;  "I  thought  that  he 
would  have  struck  you  to  the  earth  " 

fr„f?-  that  speaks  for  the  truth  must  hold  to  the 

^^n^  t,''^P.^^1*^  ^^?hae\,  as,  taking  up  his  instru- 

Streat        ^''"^^®^   *^®  ^a^^^i^i    into  their   dark 

CHAPTER   XIV. 
TIDINGS. 

Horace  was  awakened  very  early  on  the  following 
mornmg  by  the  sound  of  voices  speaking  in  earnest 
whispers  near  him.  His  rocky  recess,  as  the  reTder 
is  aware,  was  shared  by  the  brothers  Goldoni  The 
strugghng  light  of   dawn  was  too   dim  to  enable 

pf^wv*"  ^'-''^'^  *^^'^  ^«^"^'  ^"t  the  tones  of 
Raphael  s  voice  in  their  peculiar  sweetness  were 
distinguishable  from  all  others  even  in  the  lowest 
whisper. 


t  *;■ 


9« 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


"So  young  — his  poor  mother."  these  w^r^  th^ 
only  words  that  reached  the  captive's  larb.lt  ^! 
s'^emedTo 'hi'^^  ^1'^  '"'"^''^  to'  himL?r  Enrico* 

nature  of  ^^J^'T""^  '°"^^  "'S^^°'  entreaty,  the 
nature  of  which,  however,  could  not  be  eathered 
from  his  hurried,  murmured  reply.  «^athered 

You  are  to  me  as  a  chain— a  fetter  "  said  Ra 
phael,  still  speaking  below  his  breath 

«.;  ?  "^f^  ^^^^  y°"  ^ave  one,  or  you  would  be 
using  freedom  to  throw  away  your  life  upon  som« 
insane  venture,"  exclaimed  Enrico  his  hSoatien^f 
causing  him  slightly  to  raise  his  voice  '""P^^^*"^* 
Again  there  was  the  sound  of  pleading  low  fer 

ll'rerVl^iT^'''  "^^  "^^^^^'"^  for^somSh  ng 
vZ^lul    u^       .     ^^  ^*s  ^"  entreaty  to  a  brother  a 
brother  beloved,  to  have  mercy  up6n  his  own  Lil 
to  break  from  the  bondage  which  held  him  T?e?aD 

lowaras  the  abyss  of  destruction.  "To-dav  mav  be 
the  turning-point  of  your  existence.  As  you^ecide 
for  good  or  for  evil  now,  so  may  the  W  endlest 

anTulf  TW  ^-iVi.^"  '"'^''^y  of  blfss'Sr'*: 
daf  THnI  J  "^'^  ^®  ^°™^  ^^^  deed  done  to- 
day  Those  who  are  watched  for  will  not  viJirl 
without  resistance.  You  may  have  the  stain  if 
murder  on  your  soul.  Oh,  while  thlreis  vet  Smf 
J:™?  y<^--l^-the  door  of  mercy  l^^^^l 

More   followed,  which  Horace  could    not  hear 

one^Horace  conid  only  guess  by  RapLS'l  cloS"f 

Thi^tL""  ■■^^"T  '?  '*"  *°  •»«  l""'  prayer.  • 
The  tone  m  which  they  were  uttered  was  not  it, 

had  failed,    he  was  enabled   yet  more    flnil»  ?« 
grasp  the  promise  of  his  God.    '"  "°"   """'r  «» 


le 
o 
e 
d 


TIDINGS. 


97 


Soon  afterwards   there  was  a  stir  in    the  cave 
From  their  various  lurking-places  the  robbers  came 
forth  to  partake  of  their  morning  meal  and  prepSe 
for  their  expedition.     Enrico  clrefully  avoided^h^^ 

JS'^^Vr^'^'P'^f^'  ^^^  "^^<^^  JoiLdThe  ban 
ditti   at  their  feasts,  left  the  cave  to  follow  the  dalfv 

avocations  by  which  he  earned  his  scanTy  subsist": 

The  robbers  seemed  to  be  aware  that  the  exoected 
travelers  were  not  likely  to  be  early  on  the  ?oute 
for  they  lingered  in  their  haunt  till  past  noondav' 
Horace  was,  as  before,  exposed  to  thercoarse  S 
and  rude  banter.     Beppo,  in  particular,  took  p  eS 

Tn  h  s  mrd"^  ""riT^'ut^  '"/  ^"?^^"^  apprehends 
in  nis  mind.     The  robber  described  with  a  minntf^ 

ness  which  almost  sickened  his  hearTr  barbarides 

.^ellTniTlu^"^''  prisoners;  his  memory  was 
well  stored  with    horrors,  and    he  took  care   that 
Horace  should  have  the  full  benefit  of  their  rectal 
Beppo  dwelt  especially  on   the  miserable   fate   of 
Carlo  one  of  the  band  who  had  attempted  to  break 
from  the  rest,  and  who  had  perished  by  the  hand  of 
the  captain.     Horace    noticed   that    Beppo     while 
telling  the  tale,  often  glanced  meaningly  at  Enrico 
Raphael's  unhappy  brother  assumed  a  defiant  half" 
scornful  air,  boldly  commended  the  murderous  deed 
and  seemed  eager  to  cast  from  himself  the  slightest 
gi^s^cion  of  any  intention  to  follow  the  example  of 

Right  glad  was  the  prisoner  when  at  length  the 

soHtude.  "^-"-htint,   left  him  t?  his  quia 

There  is  natural    elasticity  in    the  mind  of   the 
young.     As  soon  as  the  form  of  the  last  of  the  band 

mnJlfr^'^'i  ^?^"^  ^^^  *^^^«'  Ho'-^^^e  breathed 
more  freely,  and  the  relief  which  he  felt  made  his 
spirit  rebound  into  hope.  "I  shall  haveTut  three 
days  more  of  this  to  endure,"  thought  lie-    "thl 


::j 


98 


THE   ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


worst  half  of  the  trial  is  ended,  and  oh,  how  glori- 
ous it  will  be  to  fling  these  feuers  aside,  and  tread 
the   earth  once  more  as  a  free    man!     To  leave 
behind,  once  and  for  ever,  thi«  den  of  misery  and 
horror!     I  shall  not  care  to  stay  longer  in  Italy;  I 
shall  hate  the  very  sound  of  the  language  in  which 
I  have  heard  such  things  as  I  have  been  compelled 
to  listen  to  here.     But  I  cannot  part  with  Raphael; 
no!  he  has  quite  long  enough  held  his  hopeless  post, 
teaching  those  who  will    not  learn,  pleading  with 
those  who  will  not  hear;  he  has  quite  long  enough 
risked  his  life  for  the  sake  of  a  worthless  brother. 
With  his  talents  and  his  earnestness  of    purpose, 
what  a  glorious  career  is  before  him!     If  his  light 
has  shone  even  in  this  dark  den,  what  a  luster  will 
it  shed  in  some  high  position,  where  the  world  qan 
see  its  brightness!     Raphael  is  so  unlike  all  other 
men  whonj  I  have  met  with ;  wherever  he  be  he  will 
exercise  power,  and  that  power  will  be  exerted  for 
good.     I  am  sure  that  my  mother  would  pay  for  his 
expenses  at  one  of  our  universities.     The  Cliristian 
soldier  will  then  have  a  wider  battle-field  before 
him;  he  has  been  trained  in  these  wild  mountains 
by  hardship  and  danger  for  deeds  which,  if  I  mis- 
take  not,  will  one  day  make  his  name  renowned." 

From  forming  projects  for  his  friend,  it  was  an 
easy  transition  to  make  some  for  himself. 

But  Horace's  castles  in  the  air  were  different  now 
from  what  they  had  been  in  the  days  of  his  careless 
boyhood.  Adversity  is  a  powerful  teacher,  and 
when  its  lessons  are  enforced  by  their  visible  influ- 
ence upon  another,  when  example  shows  how  in  the 
fiery  furnace  the  pure  gold  shines  more  brightly,  to 
a  generous  spirit  like  that  of  Horace  its  lessons  are 
seldom  in  vain.  Young  Cleveland  now  thought  less 
of  commanding  his  fellow-creatures  than  of  serving 
them ;  of  being  a  victor  in  earthly  warfare  than  of 
approving  himself  as  a  good  soldier  of  the  cross. 
He  saw  that  his  first  post  of  duty  must  be  home — 
the  second,  the  circle  of  his  school-companions;  he 


TIDINGS. 


99 


itln  I  '!  PJ- "^^  ^"'^  £.elf-will,  the  sins  which  most 
t^f^  ^^K^^'"'•  "^"^*  ^«  resisted  and  overcame 
there.  Obedience  to  his  parent  would  be  the  t^^t 
of  his  obedience  to  God.  His  wild  undisciplined 
spirit  must  be  brought  into  cheerful  subj-ectSr 

Henceforth     I   wil     be   a  different  snnT^  «, 
mother,- thougnt  Horace;  ^she  shaU  nev"''  ^eSn 
shed  a  tear  for  word  or  for  action  of  mine  -      ^ 
inus  in  pleasing  and  not    unprofitable  mucinrrc 

lnT\^  ^h\^"^«  «f  the  summer^Stemoon    "ev! 
and  anon  Horace  turned  his  watchful  eye    owards 
the   ^yood,   and   listened  for  the   sound  of  sS 
whistle  or  pistol-shot  in  the  distance      Ther7was 
nothing,  however,  to  tell  that  anything  of   human 
guilt  was  marring  the  peace  of  that  beautiful  sc?ne 

^u   Tor'th^T-    ^"  '\'-  '''^  ^^^^  °^  sunsh?neT and 
but  for  the  chains  on  his  ankles,  Horace  could  have 

enjoyed  the  sense  of   calm  repose  in  that  briVht 
uxurious  clime.     There  was  something  ofror^afce 
in  his    own  situation  which  was   not  without  Tts 
charms;   and  the  youth  smiled   to  himself  as  he 
thought  what  a  theme  for  a  tale  of  stirrTng  nterest 
his  adventures  would  be  when  the  socia"^c  ?cTe  of 
friends  should  be  gathered  round  the  blazing  loLs  of 
a  Christmas  fire.     None  of  his  companions  would  be 
able  to  tell  of  such  hair-breadth  escapes  or  a  ?ife  so 
wild  and  so  strange,     It  was  very  amusing  to  Horace 
to  see  in  imagination  the  wondering,  curiou"  half! 
ncredulous  looks  on  familiar  faces    and  to  fancv 
that  he  could  hear  his  mother's  ejaculations  now  of 
thankfulness,  now  of  terror  "^*"ons,  now  of 

TinHnn^^w^^  ^""'^  drawing  these  pictures  of  imagi- 
nation, Horace  saw  the  figure  of  the  improvisatore 
coming  towards  him  from  the  wood.  A^first  glancl 
he  was  struck  by  a  change  in  the  mien  of  Raphael 
perceptible  even  at  a  distance.  The  firm  elas^c 
tread  habitual  to  him  was  exchanged  foTa  slow 
Imgenng  step,  like  that  of  an  invalid,  and  twiceTe 
raised  his  hand  to  his  forehead  as  if  oppressed  by 
dizziness  or  pain.     Horace  left  his  seat  bSl  .^e 


ill 


if 


lOO 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


oak  and  advanced  to  meet  Raphael  as  far  as  the 
rocky  parapet,  bej^ond  which  he  could  not  proceed. 
He  called  out  the  Rossignol's  name,  but  Raphael 
neither  replied  nor  raise(?  his  face  to  greet  him  with 
his  usual  kindly  smile.     Instead  of  mounting  the 
rough  mass  of  rocks  almost  with  the  lightness  and 
ease  that  wings  might  have  given,  Raphael  seemed 
for  the  first  time  to  experience  some  diificulty  in 
climbing,  and  Horace  observed,  as  he  gained  the 
top,  that  the  face  of  the  young  Italian  was  even 
more  pale  than  usual. 
"Raphael,  you  are  ill!"  exclaimed  Horace. 
The  Rossignol  shook  his  head. 
"Something  painful,  I  am  certain,  has  happened. 
Come,  sit  down  on  this  rock ;  or  shall  we  go  yonder 
to  our  favorite  oak?" 

Raphael  seated  himself  on  the  rock,  and  turned 
his  face  from  his  friend. 

"You  have  had  something  to  grieve  or  to  alarm 
you?    The  lad  whom  you  visited  is  dead?" 
"He  is  better,"  the  Rossignol  replied. 
"But  you  feel  dull  and  gloomy,  as  I  felt  yester- 
day; such  a  cloud  came  over  me  then,  it  seemed  as 
if  everything  were  dark  around.     You  cheered  me 
then,  Raphael,  it  is  my  turn  to  cheer  you  now.     I 
have  been  forming  such  golden  plans  for  the  future 
plans  for  you  as  well  as  for  myself;"  and  in  a  few 
rapid  sentences  Horace  described  some  of  the  hopes 
which  had  been  brightening  his  solitary  hours. 

Raphael  only  responded  with  a  sigh  so  deep-drawn 
that  Horace  saw  at  once  that  no  light  trouble,  no 
passing  cloud  could  cast  such  a  shadow  on  his  soul. 
You  have  heard  bad  news,"  cried  young  Cleve- 
land; "do  they  regard  yourself  or— or  me?" 
Raphael's  silence  was  sufficient  reply. 
••Tell  me  the  whole  truth!"  exclaimed  Horace. 
•'Could  you  bear  it?"  answered  Raphael,  slowly 
turning  round,  and  fixing  his  large  dark  eyes  upon 
Horace  with  a  gaze  of  unutterable  sadness. 
••Yes;  I  can  bear  all,  I  must  know  all!"  exclaimed 


TIDINGS. 


XOI 


Horace.      His  heart  was  beginning  to  throb  fast 
while  a  sensation  of  cold  crept  over  him,  assuredly 
not  caused  by  the  weather. 

"All  is  said  in  few  words—Otto  was  handed  this 
morning."  * 

Prepared  as  he  was  for  a  painful  communication 
the  tidings  came  upon  Horace  like  a  blow.  He  had 
been  so  full  of  hopeful  anticipation,  he  had  had  such 
confidence  in  the  power  of  his  mother's  tears  and 
her  gold,  that  he  had  little  reckoned  upon  having  to 
suffer  anything  beyond  a  seven  days'  captivity 
Now  Matteo's  horrible  threat,  that  threat  which  he 
had  not  dared  to  translate  to  his  mother,  rose  up  in 
his  mind  like  a  spectre. 

"Are  you  quite  certain— quite  certain  that  the  tid- 
mgs  are  true?" 

"Quite  certain,"  was  the  mournful  reply. 
Does  Matteo  know  all?" 

"He  can  hardly  know  it,  or— or  I  should  not  have 
found  you  here  alone.  But  he  will  be  sure  to  know 
It  before  the  morning;  evil  tidings  fly  on  swift 
wmgs." 

Horace  grasped  the  hand  of  his  friend  with  a  con- 
vulsive pressure.  "Oh,  Raphael,  you  will  not— 
cannot  see  me  murdered  in  cold  blood  by  that  merci- 
less man.  For  my  mother's  sake— for  God's  sake— 
for  the  sake  of  Him  whom  you  serve— release  me— 
save  me  from  this  horrible  fate!" 

The  earnest,  imploring  gaze  was  met  by  one  of 
anguish.  ^ 

"We  can  fly  together,"  continued  Horace,  speak- 
ing with  eager  rapidity,  "once  out  of  the  forest  we 
are  both  safe,  both  happy — " 

1    Raphael   interrupted   him  with   a   single  word 
Enrico!"  ' 

In  that  name  were  expressed  all  the  difficulties  of 
his  position,  at  least  all  such  as  might  be  regarded 
as  insuperable.  The  fearful  choice  to  Raphael  lay 
but  between  his  brother  and  his  friend.  To  save 
the  oiie  was  to  sacrifice  the  other. 


loa 


THE   ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


It  was  a  moment  of  exquisite  pain  to  the  captive 
and  his  companion.  So  great  was  the  tension  of 
their  nerves,  that  the  sound  of  a  whistle  from  below 
made  them  both  start,  as  if  it  had  been  a  death- 
signal  ! 

I'They  come— all  is  lost!"  exclaimed  Horace. 
^,    No— not  so— there  is  but  one  man— it  is  only 
Marco,"  said  Raphael,  as  the  powerful  form  of  the 
bandit  appeared  advancing  to  the  rock. 

**But  he  knows  all— I  see  it  in  his  face;  he  comes 
a  death-messenger!"  cried  Horace. 

And  certainly  the  dark,  saturnine  countenance  of 
the  robber  wore  a  deeper  shade  of  gloom  than  usual 
such  as  could  not  escape  the  notice  of  the  anxious 
eyes  that  sought  to  read  in  it  their  fate. 

"He  may  know  nothing,  do  not  betray  your  own 
secret,"  whispered  Raphael,  who,  however,  could 
not  but  draw  the  same  conclusion  as  young  Cleve- 
land had  done  from  the  bandit's  appearance. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ONWARDS. 

When  Marco  had  reached  the  top  of  the  parapet 
Horace  drew  a  little  hope  from  the  trivial  circum- 
stance   that  the    bandit  did  not   look  at  him,  nor 
appear  to  notice  his  presence.     He  addressed  him- 
self at  once  to  the  improvisatore. 

"Your  preaching  to  the  living  is  over,  you  may 
now  pray  for  the  dead,"  he  said  in  a. hollow,  sepul- 
chral voice,  crossing  himself  as  he  spoke. 

"Explain  yourself!"  exclaimed  Raphael. 
^^  "Your  brother  is"— Marco  pointed  dr  wnwards— 
"with  the  souls  in  purgatory." 

Raphael  uttered  an  exclamation  which  was 
almost  like  a  cry.  "Not  by  violence,  not  by  vio- 
lence?" he  gasped  forth. 


ONWARDS. 


X03 


Marco  gloomily  shook  his  head,  and  muttered 
between  his  teeth,  ''The  Cascata  della  Morte!" 

•*How  did  it  happen?"  exclaimed  Horace,  giving 
voice  to  the  question  painted  on  Raphael's  ago- 
nized face. 

"We  were  all  on  our  way  to  the  high  road,"  said 
Marco,  "when  some  one  proposed  that  instead  of 
following  the  bend  of  the  river,  it  would  be  well  for 
one  or  two  of  our  party  to  cross  it,  so  that  by  mak- 
ing a  round  to  the  left,  we  might  come    on  the 
travelers  from  behind,  while  the  rest  attacked  them 
in  front.     Enrico  and  I  had  orders  to  cross.     You 
know,"  continued  the  robber,  addressing  himself  to 
Raphael,  "that  the  only  bridge  there  is  the  trunk  of 
the  tree,  thrown  across  from  bank  to  bank,  some 
twenty  yards  above  the  Cascata.     Enrico  went  first, 
I  lingered  to  tighten  my  belt,  which  was  loose.     I 
know  not  whether  he  was  taken  with  giddiness  at 
seeing  the  waters  rushing  on  so  madly  beneath  him, 
or  whether  he  stumbled  on  the  rough  bark,  but  I 
saw  Enrico  suddenly  go  down  splash  into  the  cur- 
rent.    He  gave  a  cry  and  struggled  desperately,  but 
the   rush    there  is  so   strong  and  rapid  that    no 
swimmer  could  stem  it;  the  water  bore  him  on  as 
if  he  had  been  a  reed  on  the  surface,  on— over — 
you  know  the  depth   of  the  fall,  and  may  judge 
whether  he  could  reach  the  bottom  alive." 

Raphael  dosed  his  eyes,  as  if  to  shut  out  a  vision 
of  the  awful  scene — the  precipice  and  the  victim 
dashed  over  it. 

"Not  time  for  a  single  Ave  or  Paternoster,"  said 
the  bandit,  "even  had  he  had  the  grace  to  repeat 
one;  but  I  trow  that  you  had  made  half  a  heretic  of 
him.  There  was  not  a  saint  who  would  help  him 
in  his  need,  or  he  would  not  have  come  to  so  awful 
an  end." 

Raphael  turned  and  rushed  into  the  cave,  to  hide 

himself  from  the  sunshine,  and  give  vent  in  solitude 

and  darkness  to  the  first  burst  of  uncontrollable  grief. 

"Ay,  ay,"  said  Marco,  following   him  with    his 


lift. 


104 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


eyes;  "if  ever  one  brother  loved  another  that 
brother  was  Raphael.  He  is  alvvays  teacSng  anl 
ft'co±,"^/^°"i!  submission,  but  I  take  it  thTwSen 
It  comes  to  a  sharp,  sudden  trial  like  this,  the  here 
tie  s  faith  and  trust  will  be  whirled  away  like  that 
poor  struggling  wretch  who  has  just  been  dashed  to 
pieces  over  the  fall.  It  was  an  awful  sight  even  to 
one  used  like  myself  to  rough  work,''  added  the 
bandit,  wiping  his  brow;  "and  often  when  I  stand 
sentry  within  sound  of  that  deathly  cataract   I  shall 

"Is  Matteo  returning  soon?"  askcj  Horace  who 
could  not  forget  his  own  perilous  position  even  in 
his  interest  in  the  fate  of  the  sufferer 

He  will  come  when  he  has  done  his  business  " 
was  the  surly  reply.  "The  sun  has  nearly  sunk 
behind  the  hills  but  the  expected  party  havenot 
yet  appeared.  The  band  will  keep  on  the  watch 
and  perhaps  pass  the  night  in  the  woods.  1  am 
appointed  sentinel  at  the  rock-pass  till  they  return 
and  I  have  come  to  fill  my  wallet  and  my  flask  ^s 
It  IS  uncertain  how  many  hours  I  may  have  to 
remain  and  keep  guard."  ^ 

So  saying  the  robber  went  to  the  entrance  to  the 

ce'Ile'd'irand.f^'-'^t.P^^*^  "^^^^  almost  con 
in      nir.?^  f  "i^P'^^i  ^''  *^^ '  S^^"^^  ^Snre,  entered 
in.     Horace  felt  an  almost   irresistible  impulse  to 
try  once  more  the  descent  of  the  rocks  impossible 
as  he  had  found  it  to  be  to  climb  down  Xe  the 
shackles    confined    his    ankles.      He    was    almost 
bewildered  by  what  he  heard,  evil  tidings  succeed 
ing  evil  tidings  with   a  rapidity  which^  hS  over 
powered  for  a  time  the  stronger  nature  of  Ranhael 

HorfJi^'t^  "'  'I  '/^  ^^^"  ^y  ^°"fl^^*  and  suffSng: 
^Z^Z^^lu^^^^  *°  P^^5^'  ^"'  ^^"^<3  "ot  collect  his 
thoughts;  the  only  words  of  Scripture  that  came 
into  his  mind  were,  "Oh,  that  I  had  wings  Hke  a 
dove!''  and  that  aspiration  the  poor  doomed  captive 
uttered  from  the  depth  of  his  soul  capuve 


ONWARDS. 


105 


In  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  Marco  emerged 
from  the  cave,  and  proceeded  towards  his  allotted 
^°?'i    Pe  stopped  as  he  was  about  to  pass  Horace 
and  looked  at  him  with  a  scrutinizing  eye 

l^c«.    °^  "^i!^^^,.!^®"^,  that^^«  had  been  the  one  to 
lose  a  brother,"  he  observed,  "or  that  you  had  just 
seen  the  ghost  of    Enrico.     You  look  white  as  a 
corpse  on  the  bier. " 
^^  Horace  made  no  answer,  and  the  robber  went  on 

Scarcely  had  Marco  reached  the  wood,  when 
Raphael  came  forth  from  the  cave.  He  was  now 
perfectly  calm,  but  almost  stern  in  his  sadness,  and 
Horace  saw  more  distinctly  than  he  had  ever  seen 
It  before,  the  Rossignol's  likeness  to  his  brother 
Raphael  made  a  gesture  to  the  prisoner  to  place  his 
foot  upon  a  large  stone  which  was  near,  and  then, 
beside  hiS"^^      Horace,  threw  himself  on  his  knees 

"When  I  besought  God  to  make  the  path  plain 
before  me,  I  thought  not  of  this  answer,"  said 
Raphael  in  a  low  tone;  "but  just  and  true  are  his 
h^n  ^""i^^^  moment  after,  with  a  file  which  he 
had  brought  m  his  hand,  he  was  working  at  the 
Cham  of- the  captive.  ^ 

The    mingled    feelings   of    hope,   fear,   delight 

impatience,  which  struggled  together  in  the  botom 

^•f??f  ""I  ?f' '  description.     Though  Raphael  filed 

with  the  full  power  of  his  right  arm.  it  seemed  to 

Horace  as  though  the  stubborn  iron  would  never 

nZI^'Jl^  the  noise  caused  by  the  instrument 

sounded  to  him  so  loud,  that  he  was  in  terror  lest  it 

should  reach  Marco,  and  awake  his  suspicions.     At 

the  first  pause  made  by  Raphael,  though  it  was  but 

to  shakeback  the  dark  locks'^that  had  flllen  over  Ws 

brow  as  he  stooped,  Horace  caught  the  file  from  his 

hand  and  used  it  himself  with  the  desperate  energy 

of  one  who  felt  that  his  life  might  be  the  sacrifice  of 

even  a  few  minutes'  delay;  but  he  found  that  better 

progress  was  made  when  he  resio-tiArl  it  a«.*4«  ♦« 


If 

I 

I  I 


io6 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


Raphael.  Not  a  single  word  was  uttered  by  either 
until  the  work  was  completed,  and  Horace  stood 
unfettered  beneath  the  deep  blue  sky,  which  was 
already  darkening  into  night.  He  would  have 
leaped  and  bounded  in  the  rapture  of  recovered 
freedom,  but  for  an  instinctive  delicacy  which  for- 
bade  demonstration  of  joy  in  the  presence  of  the 
bereaved  brother  of  Enrico. 

-wt^'  ^v^  °';  my  mantle  and  hat,"  said  Raphael. 

Why  so?    asked  Horace ;  ''swrely  we  shall  escape 

fofest?"^'  ^°^^  guidance  through  the 

"Through  the  most  intricate  part  you  shall  have 
It;  but  when  we  reach  the  post  guarded  by  Marco 
we  must  separate;  it  is  only  wrapt  in  disguise  that 
you  will  be  able  to  pass  him." 

"He  is  but  one  man—there  are  two  of  us,"  be^an 
Horace,  all  his  natural  courage  rising  at  the  pros- 
pect of  a  struggle.  ^ 

"One  man— but  with  two  pistols  at  his  belt  and 
with  a  hand  that,  when  it  draws  a  trigger,  ilever 
fails  to  hit  its  mark.  Remember  also  that  the  sound 
of  a  shot  would  be  sufficient  to  drp  -  the  whole  band 
upon  us.  Do  not  delay  putting  .  this  disguise- 
time  is  precious  to  you  now." 

Horace  promptly  obeyed.  Though  he  had  not 
yet  attained  the  stature  of  Raphael,  the  difference 
between  their  heights  was  not  great  enough  to  be 
striking,  and  the  almost  sudden  darkness  of  southern 
latitudes  was  now  falling  upon  earth. 

"There  is  the  moon,"  observed  Horace-  "her 
light  will  serve  to  guide  us  on  our  way." 

"I  need  it  not,"  the  Rossignol  replied,  "every 
step  of  that  way  is  familiar  to  me;"  and  he  began 
descending  the  rocks.  * 

Horace  followed,  rejoicing  in  his  newly-restored 
powers  of  activity,  though  their  exercise  was 
cramped  not  a  little  by  the  necessity  of  moving  with 
caution  in  the  darkness.  Before  he  clambered  over 
the  rocky  parapet,  he  turned  one  last  glance  towards 


ONWARDS. 


107 


the  old  oak,  the  dim  outline  of  whose  branches  he 
faintly  could  trace. 

"Farewell,"  thought  the  released  captive,  "fare- 
well for  ever  to  the  place  where  I  suffered  so  much 
of  evil,  and  learned  so  much  of  good ;  where  I  have 
seen  more  of  the  wickedness  of  man,  and  more  of 
the  grace  of  God,  in  a  few  days,  than  in  all  my 
former  lifetime!" 

In  profound   silence,  save  when  a  pebble  fell, 
dislodged  beneath  a  climbing  foot  or  hand,  the  twain 
descended  those  rocks  down  which  the  prisoner  had 
so  often    gazed,   measuring  their    depth  with  an 
anxious  and  zt  length  a  hopeless  eye.     A  few  more 
steps,  and  the  fugitives  had  entered  the  depths  of 
the  forest.     Here  the  light  was  almost  entirely  shut 
out,  for  rarely  was  a  glimpse  of  the  silver  moon  seen 
behind  the  thick  branches.     Over  moss-grown  roots 
between  the  knotted,  gnarled  trunks  of  old  trees,' 
now  bending  low  to  avoid  being  struck  by  their 
boughs,  now  thrusting  aside  plants  whose  long  trail- 
ing tresses  concealed  all  trace  of  a  path  even  during 
the  day,  Raphael  guided  his  companion.     Occasion- 
ally there  was  a  rustle  as  they  started  some  wild 
creature  from  its  lair,  or  a  frightened  bird  rose  on 
the  wing.     A  single  nightingale  was  pouring  forth 
Its  soft,  melancholy  lay;   other  sounds  there  were 
none,  till  a  faint  noise,  as  of  a  distant  waterfall, 
reached  the  listening  ear.     A  sudden  turn  at  length 
brought  the  fugitives  to  a  break  in  the  forest,  and 
Horace  saw  before  him  the  same  ledge  of  rock  over- 
hanging a  precipice  which  he  so  well  recollected 
traversing  under  the  guidance  of  Enrico.  The  moon, 
almost  at  the  full,  in  unveiled  brightness  shone  on 
the  cold  gray  stone,  veined  with  green  moss  and 
lichen,  and  the  wooded  heights  which  rose  on  one 
side  above  it,  and  even  revealed  the  awful  beauty  of 
the  deep  gorge  on  the  left,  glimmering  on  a  stream 
which,  hundreds  of  feet  below,  wound  like  a  thread 
of  silver  through  the  dark  valley.     Distinct  in  the 
moonshine,  whirfi  tfirpw  hia  hioft  oV,af'>>«"  '»~ 


io8 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


rock  wall  behind  him,  rose  the  gaunt  form  of  Marco 
the  bandit.  He  stood  at  so  narrow  a  part  of  the 
PVt-*^**  though  he  was  almost  close  to  the 
rock,  the  precipice  in  front  of  him  yawned  scarcely 
more  than  a  yard  from  his  feet.  He  could  hardly 
be  passed  without  being  touched,  and  Horace 
perceived  at  once  that,  without  the  protection  of 
a  disguise,  the  attempt  to  cross  in  front  of  the 
watchful  sentinel  must  bring  inevitable  destruc 
tion. 

•'Draw  your  hat  lower  over  your  brow  "  whis- 
pered Raphael;  "the  pass-word  is  'SperaAza  '  If 
Marco  speak  to  you,  do  not  reply.     Silence  on  my 

SILJ"""^!,  ""^"'^  ^"^  surprise  after  all  that  has 
passed.  The  sound  of  water  will  be  sufficient  to 
guide  you,  till  you  reach  the  bank  of  the  stream. 
Do  not  attempt  to  cross  it,"  Raphael's  voice  falter-d 
as  he  spoke, -turn  to  the  right  and  follow  its  course 
till  you  reach  the  high  road,  which  crosses  it  by  a 
bndge.  And  now— God's  blessing  go  with  yoii»" 
and  extending  his  hand  to  Horace,  Raphael  added 
"here  we  must  part."  ' 

"O  Raphael!"  exclaimed  the  young  Englishman 
grasping  it  with  emotion,  "I  cannot  desert  you  thus 
I  cannot  leave  you  to  the  vengeance  of  Matteo— I 
feel  that  your  blood  would  be  on  my  head— I  would 
rather  go  back  to  the  cave!" 

The  two  hands  were  yet  clasped  in  each  other,  and 
Horace  felt  the  warm  pressure  of  his  friend's  as  he 
replied.  You  would  have  no  chance  of  mercv 
your  young  life  would  be  the  certain  sacrifice-  I 
have  a  thousand  advantages  which  you  do  not  pos- 
sess I  know  every  man  in  the  band— I  have  put 
most  of  them  under  obligation;  every  path  in  the 
forest  IS  familiar  to  me  as  well  by  night  as  by  day 
If  you  knew  the  mountain's  weight  which  will  be 

n^Al^^    fr^"  "^l  ^^^""^  .^^  y°^^  ^'SK  you  would 
not  dally  thus  with  your  fate. " 

ribie^Slnger?'^''*  ^''^''^  ^*'''  ^"^  '^^°^^'''  *^*  °'^**  *^'' 


A  PERILOUS  PASS. 


109 


"You  leave  me  to  the  care  of  my  heavenly  Father. 
He  IS  with  me,  I  have  nothing  to  fear. " 
^J'u^K  b/gan  Horace,  still  retaining  his  hold  of 
the  hand  of  Raphael,  "if  you  should  suffer  for  this 
generous  act,  I  never  should  know  peace  any  more  " 
Say  not  so,"  murmured  the  Rossignol,  with 
more  than  his  usual  sweetness  of  tone;  "if  any  thing- 
should  happen  to  me,  think  that  the  lone,  desolate 
wanderer  has  found  at  last  rest  and  a  home:  that 
the  dreary  warfare  is  ended— the  long  life-struggle 
over.  I  am  not,  as  you  are,  a  mother's  hope,  and 
pride,  and  comfort;  I  now  stand  alone  in  the  world  " 

..  J  T  ^®  y°"^  brother!"  exclaimed  Horace- 
on,  I  cannot,  will  not  desert  you!" 
"You  could  not  serve  me,  even  were  you  to 
return  to  the  cave,"  said  Raphael;  "I  could  not 
replace  the  chains;  the  Rubicon  was  passed  when  I 
hied  them  asunder.  My  chance  of  escape  would  be 
greatly  lessened  by  my  having  to  care  for  your 
~m  ^b^^  well  as  my  own.     Therefore  go,  my  friend 

Raphael  drew  Horace  to  his  heart,  and  pressed 
him  to  It  for  a  moment  in  a  close  embrace:  then 
suddenly  unloosing  it,  he  turned  round  and  buried 
himself  in  the  wood. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  PERILOUS  PASS. 

The  parting  from  Raphael  gave  a  keen  pang  to 
Horace.  He  could  scarcely  have  believed  that  in  so 
short  a  space  of  time  any  human  being  could  have 
obtained  so  strong  a  hold  upon  his  aflfections.  Pity 
gratitude,  admiration  had  combined  in  a  three-fold 
cord  to  knit  to  his  heart  the  man  whose  fate  had 
been  so  singularly  linked  with  his  own.  and  who 
was  now  freely  risking  life  to  save  him.  But 
Horace  had  no  time  to  dwell  on  tender  n^m^u^. 


119 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


i 

I 


tions  at  a  moment  like  this.  The  absorbing  instinct 
of  self-preservation  claimed  now  the  first  place  in 
his  mind  Every  minute  of  delay  increased  the 
danger  of  the  dreaded  Matteo's  return  Horace 
must  pass  along  that  perilous  ledge,  close  in  front 
of  the  ruffian  whose  strong  arm  could,  were  his 
slightest  suspicion  aroused,  hurl  the  stripling  over 
the  beetling  precipice  to  lie  a  mangled  corpse  in  the 
valley  below.  *^ 

"Speranza!  Speranza!  hope!"  Horace  repeated  to 
himself,  less  from  the  fear  that  in  the  excitement  of 
tne  moment  the  pass-word  might  escape  his  mem- 
ory, than  from  an  eflfort  to  draw  encouragement 
from  the  sound.  -God  be  my  helper!  God  be  my 
hope!  and  drawing  Raphael's  mantle  yet  more 
closely  round  his  form,  and  pulling  the  hat  lower 
over  his  eyes  with  a  palpitating  heart,  yet  a  firm, 
brave  step,  Horace  Cleveland  strode  forth  into  the 
moonlight,  which  had  never  before  appeared  to  him 
so  painfully  brilliant. 

"Ha,  Raphael,  you  are  not  going  t/tit/ter/  it  is  of 
no  avail f  you  will  only  turn  your  brain  altogether'" 
taftTf  ^^',?^',^^  Horace  approached  him,  and 
to  the  no  small  alarm  of  the  fugitive,  the  bkndit 
actually  laid  a  strong,  heavy  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
bperanza!     muttered  Horace,  shaking  himself 
loose  from  a  grasp  which  seemed  to  him  like  that  of 
death.     The  fugitive  could  scarcely  believe  the  evi- 
dence of  his  own  senses  when  he  found   himself 
actually  striding  onwards  beyond  the  perilous  spot 
He  expected  every  moment  to  be  overtaken  bv  a 
bullet,  or  to  hear  a  sudden  shout  of   recognition. 
He  dared  not  look  behind  him,  nor  much  quicken 
his  steps,  but  instinctively  he  held  his  breath  till  he 
had  gained  the  wood  at  the  further  end  of  the  ledge 
1  hen,  mdeed,  a  low,  fervent   thanksgiving    burst 
fre^  Horace,  and  he  felt  himself  really 

The    sound  of   falling  water  had  every  minute 
become  more  and   more  distinct.      Horace,   with 


A  PERILOUS  PASS. 


Ill 


eager  hope,  hurried  forward  in  the  direction  from 
whence  it  came.  Yet  a  little  struggling  through 
bramble  and  bush,  trying  the  most  direct  way 
rather  than  the  clearest,  while  still  listening  with 
painful  anxiety  for  sound  of  pursuit,  and  the  youth 
reached  the  bank  of  a  stream  which  was  rushing  on 
as  If  eager  to  plunge  madly  down  into  the  valley. 
The  trunk  of  a  tree  lay  over  it,  cutting  with  its  dark 
rough  outline  the  path  of  quivering  silver  which  the 
moonbeams  had  thrown  across  the  waters  Here 
"\?.®'t.  .7®  been  the  scene  of  the  fearful  catastrophe 
which  Marco  had  related. 

Horace  shuddered  at  the  sight  of  those  dark  rapid 
^^^!.^^  m  which  a  fellow-creature  so  lately  had  per- 
ished/    He  had  now,  however,  no  time  for  reflectinir 
on    the    untimely  fate    of    the   wretched    Enrico 
Remembering  the  directions   of   Raphael,  Horace 
was  about  to  track  the  upward  course  of  the  stream 
when  he  was  startled  by  a  faint  cry,  as  of  a  human 
voice,  which  mingled  with  the  rushing  noise  of  the 
cataract.     Horace  was  not  of  a  superstitious  nature : 
but  It  is  no  marvel    that,   when  his   nerves  were 
qmvenng  from  the  tension  required  for  a    great 
effort--at  that  hour  of  night— in  that  desolate  place 
—on  the  very  spot  where  he  believed  that,  but  a 
few  hours  before,  a  miserable  man  had  been  swept 
into  eternity— that  cry  should  seem  to  curdle  the 
blood  in  his  veins. 

Again  it  rose,  more  distinct  than  before;  and  now 
superstition— if  such  a  feeling  had  for  a  moment 
arisen— gave  place  to  one  more  worthy.  Horace 
was  many  yards  from  the  head  of  the  cataract 
though  he  could  see  its  spray  white  in  the  moonl 
light;  the  way  to  it  was  very  thickly  overgrown 
with  brushwood,  through  which  mortal  foot  had 
never  yet  made  its  way.  He  held  a  short  debate  in 
his  mind  as  to  the  course  which  he  ought  to  pursue  • 
whether  he  should  seek  his  own  safety  by  going  to 
the  right,  or  whether  he  should  force  a  difficult  pas- 
sage  to  the  top  of  the  fall,  in  bones  of  trMnJ^oiA 


Ilf 


•M 


Iff' 


THE  ROBBERr  Q\y^ 


to  some  fellow-creature  in  distress.     Was  it  not  pos- 
sible that  Enrico,  saved  by  some  incomprehensible 

^u'u^l  ?*^J^^  ^^  *''*^^^  '»  ^  positiwn  of  peril  fr..m 
Which  he  had  no  power  to  extricate  him-ielf ?     Might 
not  Horace   give    aid  to  the    fr^.ih,  '•  of   Raphael? 
That    last   thought    destroyed   every  ,^>ubt,  every 
selfish  calculation  of  personal  risk.      Horace  only 
considered  how  he  might  reach  the  place,  and  though 
not  yet  daring  to  answer  the  cry,  he  began  with  all 
the  activity  and  energy  on  which  he  once  had  prided 
himself,  to  make  his  way  to  the  edge  of  the  cascata. 
When  the    English  youth  had   accomplished  his 
object,  how  wondrous  was   the  scene  which  pre- 
sented  itself  to  his  view  as  he  bent  forward  to  gaze 
down  the    cascade.     The  body  of  water  was    not 
large,  but  the  depth  of  the  fall  was  very  -reat  and 
one    sheet  of   white  foam  overspread    the  stream 
which  plunged  seething,  hissing,  roaring— down- 
down— down— till  it  was  lost  in  the  cloud  of  spray 
which,  hundreds     /  fee'   below,  veiled  the  bottom 
of  the  cataract.     Exqm.  te  was  the  beauty  of  the 
fall,  especially  as  now  seen   by  the  misty,  silvery 
light  of  the  moon,  which  gave  a  ghastly  grandeur 
to  the  wild,  bold,  wooded  rocks,  which  the  cataract 
seemed  to  be  cleaving  asunder  like  an  archangel's 
glittering  sword.      But    the    eye    of    Horace  was 
riveted  on  one  dark  object  in  the  midst  of  the  foam 
not  many  feet  below  the  summit.    At  the  first  glance 
he  deemed  that  it  might  be  a  fragment  of  rock  that 
had  endured  for  ages  the  dash  and  fret  of  the  rest- 
less  waters;  but  no;  it  moved— it  rlung— a  human 
being,    suspended  as    it    seemed    oy  miracle,   was 
living— breathing  in  the  very  heart  of  the  dizzying 
roar  and  rush !  /     s 

'A^,°^.^*"  ^  ^®^P  y°"^"  shouted  out  Horace,  for- 
getful of  everything  but  the  frightful  situation  of 
Jfinrico. 

••A  rope  — quick  — my  strength  is  giving  way!" 
Hollow  and  strange  came  the  scarcA:.-  articulate 
sounds. 


A  PERILOUS  PASS. 


»'3 

can''?  dof  <rwL?L'717'''  ''^  ^^^^^T^h^; 
ransom  of  a  kingr         ^  '^^^  ^  '°P"  ^^''^  ^^'^h  the 

down  '^^  tJI^I"^  -^^^  ^°"/!   ^^^  ^"«h  ^i"   bear  me 
aown.       The  voice  was  fainter  than  before 

haste,  he  proceeded  tc  tie  t^crMht^r-  ^u  "crvous 

able  substitutes  /™-  a   ropr   TUMri?°r"^«^^- 
them,  and  triec-  -  ,.  h  knot-   for  fhl^     f  ,'"'°"*'' 

death  af  ^^^  despairing,  whirled  down  to  certa°n 
fppeaied'athand""''  '"°'"*"'  '"'^»  ^«"'v«ance 
fall'"*'"'  "  '■■"  '°'""  "'«a  'he  voice  f„m  the 

4Sd— S  '^tr-S  rnt- -  tt 

.uflK^ntlycloeTJ^^S^rt^o'^^^^^^^^^ 

knottdVetZSt^eTp?t'w^Je^?eidliHf 
seen  form  of  Enrico  broke  VeTonTlineo?w'^ 

eve;y  nei^e lL*''hL^'  '°'"'^  <''?-'>«  ^^d  =f^i^«d 
^vciy   nerve  — ne  had  now  nothing-  left  T^nf  <-i,« 

fearing  to  Iook-En*^^o'w«  '^?^^„1?"A- *'"">»* 


114 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


"I  see  it,  but  I  can't  reach  it!"  shrieked  the  miser- 
able man;  the  dark  line  of  the  rope  lay  on  the  foam 
just  beyond  his  outstretched  hand. 

Horace  was  almost  in  despair ;  he  had  no  power 
to  throw  it  nearer;  the  current  of  the  waters  was 
gradually  drawing  the  life-rope  further  away  from 
their  victim. 

"Make  a  spring  at  it!"  exclaimed  Horace,  and 
shuddered  at  his  own  words,  lest  Enrico  should 
obey,  miss  the  rope,  and  be  dashed  to  pieces  down 
the  fall. 

"He  has  done  it!  oh,  merciful  Heaven!"  gasped 
the  youth,  almost  faint  with  extreme  excitement; 
"hold  on,  hold  on  for  your  life!"  and  with  a  strength 
beyond  his  years — a  strength  which  seemed  to  be 
superhuman  —  Horace,  throwing  his  whole  weight 
on  the  upper  end  of  the  rope,  drew  it  hand  over  hand 
towards  him.  He  was  in  momentary  dread  of 
feeling  it  suddenly  become  light  from  the  yielding 
of  a  knot,  or  from  the  numbed  hands  below  giving 
up  their  desperate  grasp;  he  was  not  without  an 
undefined  sense  of  terror  lest  he  should  be  over- 
balanced himself,  and  instead  of  saving  Enrico,  be 
dashed  with  him  over  the  abyss.  Not  even  when 
Horace  had  passed  Marco  in  safety  had  he  experi- 
enced a  feeling  of  relief  so  intense  as  when  Enrico's 
dripping  head  appeared  above  the  fall,  and,  a  mom- 
ent after,  with  a  tremendous  effort,  he  swung  him- 
self on  the  bank. 

"Thank  God!  oh,  thank  God!"  exclaimed  Horace. 
Enrico  lay  motionless,  senseless.  His  failing  powers 
had  been  concentrated  on  that  one  effort,  and  he 
swooned  as  soon  as  it  had  been  made. 

Horace  did  all  that  he  could  to  fan  the  flickering 
spark  of  life.  He  first  dragged  Enrico  a  few  paces 
from  the  edge ;  for  in  that  moment  of  dizzy  horror 
he  could  not  disconnect  nearness  to  the  Cascata 
della  Morte  from  the  idea  of  danger;  he  longed  to 
get  beyond  hearing  of  its  roar.  He  then  removed 
part  of  the  clothes  of  the  half-drowned  man,  which 


A  PERILOUS  PASS. 


115 


were  torn,  saturated,  and  dripping  with  water  He 
chafed  Enrico's  limbs,  breathed  on  his  h>s,  tried  to 
impart  warmth  to  the  bruised  and  benumbed  frime 
He  wrung  the  water  from  the  long  black  hair  which 
hung  m  tangled  strands  over  the  fhastly  face'  wh  ch 
wWchTo}?';?^^"''"''^  retained^  lool  of  diltress 
\^u'^^^i °^  *^^  .^^°"y  ""^  t^e  late  struggle  for  life 
Fn^^i  1,  ^^'^''^  '•  ^^""^  engaged  I  will  delate  how 
iinrico  had  come  mto  the  strange  and  fearful  posi- 

rL^cued""  ^'   ^^^    ^""^  '^"^  wonderfully 

Slipping  on  the  rough  tree-bridge  and  losing  his 
balance,  Enrico  had  fallen  into  the  stream  struT 
Sj'^ff  ^J?  ri"  with  the  current,  and  had  b^en^fs 
^t'Z^^^  described),  borne  onWard  to  the  edge  o? 
th^  rAf  ^''V  ^"  ^^^^  ^^^  h«  attempted  to  catfh  a 
for  h«?n  t^^Tl  "^^"'J^  ^^i°  h«  had  shrieked 
in  fW^'    f^f  ^^^  ^^^°  whiried  on,  and  then  over 

Sblele^tTucU?^^^^  "'^^'  ^^^^^^^^  ^^--^  -- 
Prom  the  centre  of  the  rock- wall  that  backed  the 
cataract,  and  not  very  far  from  the  summit  jutted 
out  a  small  fragment  of  crag,  round  and  ^er  wh  ch 
the  furious  waters  had  for  centuries  dashed  bearW 
away  particles  of  the  solid  stone  by  ceaseless  wear 
yet  leaving  a  tooth-like  projection,  only  v?sbll  when 
whiH^H^r'  "°^  ^^"'  'hough  its  opposition  Xays 
On    thl      /P'^J  '"  r^""  circles  from  that  spo^t 
dasheS     ZnllT""   '}\  unfortunate  Enrico  was 
aashed,    stunned     and    bruised.      Caught    bv    his 
clothes,  he  had  been  suspended  for  somf  minuLs  in 
an  almost  unconscious  state,  unable  even  to  S  ter  a 

n7;i,.?'„T^^"^'  '""^^^^^  bit  only  to  become  aware 
?rom  J«  ^  horrors  of  his  situation.-"  His  eyes  beTng 
d«n?h^.P°''*  u^'u'V'"^^  helow,  he  beheld  the  awful 
ffi/^r?!,'^  «'^  lie  expected  every  moment  trbe 
flSw  i.mI^^?lf '"^  ^^'.^^^^  ^^'«^«'  with  unceasing 
te^rhtZ  A  ^!  "^«^^^l«ss  enemies  determined  tS 
tear  hira  down,  to  wrench  him  awav  from  th.  ^„o 
iiuie  point  of  refuge  afforded  by  the  projecting"  crag 


ti6 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


m 


to  which  he  now  wildly  clung.  Enrico's  soul  sick- 
ened, his  brain'reeled ;  the  din  of  the  torrent  rushing, 
rolling,  roaring — above,  below-7-almost  maddened 
the  wretched  man!  A  strange  idea  possessed 
his  mind,  that  it  was  Raphael's  prayer  which  sus- 
pended him  now,  as  it  were,  by  a  hair  above  the 
gulf,  of  not  only  temporal  but  eternal  destruction. 
If  Raphael  should  cease,  even  for  a  moment,  to 
pray,  the  half-frenzied  Enrico  believed  that  the 
waters  would  have  their  wild  will,  and  bear  him 
crashing  down  to  perdition,  swathed  in  the  white 
shroud  of  their  foam ! 

Thus  passed  the  fearful  time  till  brief  twilight 
deepened  into  night.  Still  Enrico  clung  to  his  crag, 
its  shape  enabling  him  so  to  support  his  person  that 
its  weight  did  not  rest  on  his  hands,  though  all 
their  strength  was  needed  to  enable  him  to  resist 
the  constant  pressure  of  the  furious  waters.  He 
was  contending  with  a  foe  that  could  never  grow 
weary.  Often  Enrico  cried  aloud  for  help,  with  a 
bitter  consciousness  of  the  improbability  that  such 
cry  would  reach  a  human  ear,  since  he  had  never 
yet  known  any  one  come  to  the  top  of  the  cliff,  less 
from  the  difficulty  of  reaching  it,  than  from  a  super- 
stition which  clothed  the  Cascata  della  Morte  with 
supernatural  terrors.  The  forest  path,  indeed,  was 
not  far  distant,  but  it  was  lonely  and  wild,  and 
never  trodden  save  by  members  of  the  band.  It 
seemed  to  Enrico  as  if  the  din  which  perpetually 
roared  in  his  ears  completely  drowned  the  sound  of 
his  voice.  He  could  hardly  hear  it  himself;  how 
could  it  reach  a  distant  ear? 

The  robber  had  become  calmer,  though  not  less 
wretched.  His  mind  now  reverted  to  the  past. 
Each  event  of  his  life  —  every  error  —  every  sin  — 
seemed  to  rise  up  before  him  distinct  as  the  white 
spray  in  the  moonlight,  hissed  in  his  ears  with  the 
roar  of  the  fall.  Had  not  his  position  for  years 
been  imaged  by  his  position  now?    Carried  away  by 

his.   rtaesirine  ae    h.v  fhf»    flrtnrl     'htirlef!    ftver  the   brink 


/aasi\/i.ii3  ms 


A  PERILOUS  PASS. 


117 


of  crime  in  full  rapid  career  towards  endless  ruin, 
yet  caught— suspended— restrained-ras  it  were,  by 
the    prayers,    entreaties,    example,     of    one    who 
remained  amid  the  whirl,  the  rack,  and  the  rush 
yet  unshaken  and  firm  as  the  crag.  * 

In  that  hour  c '  extremest  peril  the  sinner's  cry 
arose  to  his  God.  Raphael  had  spoken  of  mercy; 
might  not  that  mercy  be  extended  even  unto 
him,  not  perhaps  to  save  him  from  impending 
death,  but  from  the  more  fearful  death  of  the  soul? 
Words  that  his  brother  had  read  from  the  Scrip- 
tures flashed  back  on  the  mind  of  Enrico,  ''He  is 
able  also  to  save  them  to  the  uttermost  that  come  unto 
God  by  Him.''  The  drowning  soul  clung  to  that 
guth,  even  as  the  numbed  hands  clung  to  the  rock. 
Enrico  knew  -/"le  utter  impossibility  now  of  saving 
himself;  he  felt  that  he  deserved  no  mercy  from  an 
offended  God ;  but  there  was  One  who  could  save  to 
the  uttermost,  One  who  had  died  to  save,  One  who 
could  draw  him  yet  out  of  the  horrible  pit,  and  set 
his  feet  on  a  rock,  and  order  his  goings. 

While  thus  hanging,  as  it  were,  between  earth 
and  heaven,  Enrico  heard  the  call  of  Ho?  ace.  He 
doubted  not  for  a  moment  that  the  Almighty  had 
sent  his  brother  to  his  aid.  When  the  rope  of 
knotted  strips  was  thrown  down  the  cascade,  it 
seemed  to  the  poor  penitent  as  an  emblem'  of 
heavenly  hope.  Then  sudden  darkness  hid  it  from 
his  view,  and  in  vain  his  hand  groped  in  the  chill 
waters  to  find  it.  The  gloom  of  despair  seemed  to 
settle  on  his  soul.  The  cloud  rolled  away,  and  the 
straining  eyes  of  Enrico  beheld  the  rope  once  again 
He  sought  to  grasp  it,  and  failed.  Was  it  that 
mercy,  even  the  mercy  held  out  to  all  contrite  sin- 
ners, was  not  to  be  reached  by  him— that  he  who 
for  so  long  had  tried  the  patience  of  a  long-suffering 
God,  was  to  perish  at  last  even  in  sight  of  the  means 
of  salvation? 

••Raphael  is  praying,  and  I  will  hope,"  thought 
Hi?:  .^m^_giji.„  BUiicici;  uiiu  wacn  norace  snouted 


2l8 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


down  the  direction  to  spring,  "Raphael  bids  me,  I 
obey,"  was  the  reflection  which  nerved  him  for  the 
one  desperate  leap  upon  which  he  staked  his  exist- 
ence. 

Even  when  the  rope  was  grasped,  so  great  was 
the  sufferer's  exhaustion,  so  benumbed  and  stif- 
fened were  his  fingers  by  the  drenching  of  the  flood, 
that  he  could  scarcely  retain  his  hold.  Yet  it  was  as 
though  an  angel  whispered  as  he  was  dragged 
upwards  through  the  dash  and  the  foam,  "Hold 
fast — hold  fast  the  hope  set  before  you!"  It  was 
not  merely  the  action  of  a  drowning  man  grasping 
a  cord,  but  of  a  perishing  soul  clinging  to  its  last 
hope  of  grace. 

As  soon  as  the  fearful  effort  was  crowned  with 
success,  exhausted  nature  gave  way.  In  a  stupor 
which  must  have  had  fatal  consequences  had  it  over- 
whelmed him  two  minutes  earlier,  Enrico  lay  with 
his  dripping  head  supported  on  the  knee  o^  Horace 
Cleveland.  The  stupor  continued  for  some  time. 
At  length  the  pale  lips  parted  and  sounds  came 
forth.  Horace  bent  down  to  listen,  and  caught  the 
words, — 

"Oh,  Raphael,  I  knew  it  was  your  prayer!" 

Then  the  large  black  eyes  suddenly  opened. 
They  rested  not  on  Horace,  but  looked  wildly 
around,  as  if  seeking  some  other  face;  and  half 
raising  himself  on  his  arm,  Enrico  exclaimed : 

"Where  is  he — where  is  my  brother?" 

Horace  did  not  answer,  for  at  that  instant  his 
attention  was  arrested  by  the  sound  of  a  distant 
report.  He  sprang  to  his  feet— there  came  another 
—another— then  the  rattling  sound  of  a  volley,  all 
in  the  direction  of  the  high  road. 

"Ha!"  exclaimed  Horace  Cleveland,  "the  hunters 
lay  in  wait  for  a  deer,  but  they  seem  to  have  fallen 
in  with  a  lion." 

'^hen,  for  the  first  time,  Enrico  recognized  his 
deliverer.  "The  prisoner,  and  free!"  he  exclaimed 
in  accents  of  alarm. 


ONE  EFFORT  MORE. 


119 


"Ay,  free — free  as  the  air,  and  not  likely  to  be 
soon  in  bondage  again,  if  that  sound  of  musketry, 
as  I  believe,  tells  that  soldiers  are  at  hand." 

Enrico  struggled  to  his  feet,  passed  his  hand 
across  his  brow,  and  listened  with  a  look  of  bewilder- 
ment and  fear. 

"Enrico,  you  also  are  free  —  free  from  worse 
bondage  than  mine.  Remember  that  the  robbers 
will  deem  your  life  forfeited.  Surrender  yourself 
up  to  justice,  and  I  pledge  my  honor  that  every 
effort  shall  be  made  to  secure  our  safety  and  your 
pardon." 

"Pardon!"  Enrico  repeated  the  word,  clasped 
his  hands  and  looked  upwards; — ^he  was  not  think- 
ing of  the  pardon  of  man. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
ONE  EFFORT  MORE. 

We  will  now  return  to  Raphael,  who  with  keen 
and  breathless  interest  had  watched  from  the  shade 
of  the  forest  Horace's  passage  along  the  perilous 
ledge.  When  Marco's  hand  had  been  laid  on  the 
shoulder  of  the  youth,  the  Rossignol  could  hardly 
refrain  from  springing  forward  to  the  rescue,  and 
scarcely  had  Horace  himself  experienced  greater 
satisfaction  than  did  his  friend  when  that  startling 
danger  was  past.  When  the  fugitive  had  dis- 
appeared from  his  view,  Raphael,  for  the  first  time, 
appeared  to  have  leisure  to  think  of  himself.  To 
aid  in  the  escape  of  a  prisoner  was,  as  he  well 
knew,  a  crime  to  be  atoned  for  only  with  life. 
Raphael  was  young,  and  notwithstanding  the  recent 
bereavement,  which  had  been  like  the  wrenching 
away  of  a  heart-string,  life  was  to  Raphael  a  pre- 
cious thing,  not  to  be  parted  with  I'ghtly. 

As  he  stood  with  folded  arms  under  the  shadow 
of  the  waving  boughs,  a  sense  of  the  loveliness  of 


130 


THE   ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


nature  came  on  his  poet-soul  with  a  soothing 
softening  power.  He  felt  loath  to  leave  God's 
beautiful  world.  How  divinely  fair  looked  the 
scene  before  him,  beneath  the  silvery  rays  of  the 
moon!  How  wooingly  breathed  the  night-breeze 
upon  his  feverish  brow!  How  sweet  sounded  the 
nightingale's  song,  warbled  soft  through  the  stilly 
air!  Hope,  even  earthly  hope,  was  not  dead  in  that 
young  bosom;  there  was  still  a  desire  for  human 
love  and  for  human  happ-r  ss  there.  Raphael 
thought  of  Horace,  blessed  v  h  friends,  a  mother, 
a  home;  not,  indeed,  with  envy,  but  with  the  instinc- 
tive yearning  of  a  tender  and  loving  nature  for  the 
sympathy  of  human  hearts,  of  which  he  had  known 
so  little. 

Thus  the  improvisatore  had  no  intention  of  await- 
ing a  violent  death  with  folded  hands;  he  revolved 
all  possible  means  of  escape.  From  Matteo's  mercy 
he  expected  as  little  as  he  would  have  done  from  that 
of  a  lioness  whose  cubs  had  been  slaughtered  before 
her  eyes.  He  must  not  await  the  burst  of  frantic 
mry  of  a  father  bereaved  of  his  son  and  balked  of 
his  vengeance.  Nor  could  Raphael  count  upon  the 
protection  of  any  of  the  band,  though  he  knew  that 
on  some  he  had  the  claim  of  gratitude.  No  he 
must  rely  upon  the  aid  of  God  and  his  own  efforts 
alone. 

Raphael  resolved  to  wait  just  long  enough  to  give 
Horace  a  fair  start,  which  might  be  essential  to  his 
safety,  and  then  to  follow  himself  in  the  same  track 
as  that  which  his  friend  had  pursued.  It  was  true 
that  Marco  must  be  passed  on  the  perilous  rock- 
that  the  bandit  had  pistols  in  his  belt,  and  that  his 
bullet  always  levelled  his  victim.  But  Raphael 
deemed  it  possible  that  the  man  would  be  reluctant 
to  slay  a  comrade,  alone  and  unarmed.  Marco  was 
savage,  ignorant,  blinded  by  superstition,  a  fanatic 
who  regarded  murder  itself  as  a  venial  offence  com- 
pared with  heresy;  but  he  was  not  so  utterly 
hardened  and  depraved  as  were  Matteo  and  Beppo 


ONE  EFFORT  MORE. 


lai 


The  fate  of  Enrico  had  seemed  somewhat  to  move 

JJlt^tw  7?8^«^  nat"^e-  At  all  events.  Raphael 
felt  that  of  two  dangers  the  lesser  one  was  to  be 
chosen  ;-better  to  try  the  chance  of  passing  Marco 
than  to  await  the  return  of  Matteo  and  his  gane  ' 
After  recommending  himself  to  the  protection  of 
his  heavenly  Father,  in  submission  to  the  divine  will 

"^  •tJTrJ^^u^^",?'^^^^^  ^PP°>"t,  the  young  Italian 
quitted  the  shrouding  shade,  and  with  a  firm  step 
advanced  towards  the  sentinel,  whose  eyes  were  at 
that  monient,  turned  in  an  opposite  direction.  Ra- 
phael  had  as  we  have  seen,  divested  himself  both 
of  hat  and  mantle.  His  face  was  calm,  but  very 
pale;— the  expression  that  of  a  man  who  knows  that 
he  is  facing  death,  but  who  has  nerved  himself  to 
face  It  withc4it  flinching.  The  mass  of  rich  dark 
«fr!fif  ^'''l'^  back  from  his  high,  pale  forehead,  fell 
almost  to  his  shoulders,  damp  with  the  dews  of  night 
Marco  was  repeating  an  Ave  for  the  soul  of  the 

*"!?? ^^^^u^JTi"'  ,'^^^"'  chancing  to  turn  round,  he 
suddenly  beheld  the  tall  figure  approaching  him  in 
the  moonlight,  bareheaded,  in  its  spirit-like  stillness 
and  calmness,  with  the  gaze  of  its  large,  thoughtful 
eyes  riveted  on  his  own.  It  came  along  the^path 
by  which  not  an  hour  before,  he  believed  that  Ra- 
phael  had  passed.  The  Rossignol  marveled  to  see 
the  fear  which  he  was  wrestling  down  in  his  own 
heart  suddenly  transferred  to  the  man  before  him. 
K^^L^r/.*'^^^  dilated,  his  lips  parted,  his  very  hair 

«5?t  /°  'iif?  ^""v™  ?'^  ^^^*^'  ^«  «=rossed  himself 
with  a  trembling  hand,  moving  backwards  step  by 

Tl^^  ?i1Prf  ^  ?°^2°"^  ^'^^^  "^^^«^.  but  staring 
at  him  still,  like  the  hare  fascinated  by  the  gaze  of 

/-Tf^^'Pif"*- 1,  ^Mf,st  wiu  a  cry,  -'£  i/ sua  spiritor 
(  It  is  his  ghost!")  the  strongman  actuallfturned 
and  fled,  overpowered  by  superstitious  terrors. 

ihen  Raphael    knew  the  cause  of  that  before 
inexplicable  alarm  which  his  presence  had  inspired 
and  with  thankfulness  for  the  path  thus  cleared  for 


him  bv  means 


iinr»n 


wiiica  as  couid   never  have 


122 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


reckoned,  came  a  bitter  pang  of  remembrance,  as 
he  thought  on  his  brother,  loved  and  lost!  There 
appeared  to  be  as  little  cause  to  doubt  the  death  of 
Enrico  as  there  would  have  been  had  he  been 
dashed  over  the  Falls  of  Niagara;  no  human  fore- 
sight could  have  calculated  upon  the  singular 
accident  to  which  he  owed  his  almost  miraculous 
preservation. 

Scarcely  had  the  Rossignol  entered  the  wood  on 
the  further  side  of  the  pass,  with  a  feeling  of  deep 
melancholy  as  he  approached  the  scene  of  his 
brother's  fall,  when  he  was  startled,  as  Horace  had 
been,  by  the  sound  of  distant  firing.  It  was  evi- 
dent that  Matteo  and  his  ruffian  band  had  lighted  on 
no  despicable  foe—that  they  were  engaged  in  a  des- 
perate struggle  with  those  who  would  claim  blood 
for  blood,  and  life  for  life. 

Raphael  and  Horace  little  gnessed  that  a  timid, 
delicate  woman,  foiled  in  her  efforts  to  save  her  son 
in  one  way,  had  attempted  another,  with  the  energy 
given  by  desperation  to  maternal  love.  There  had 
been  a  carriage  and  a  lady  within  it;  there  had  been 
postilions  and  outriders;  the  appearance  of  the 
equipage  had  been  such  as  to  awake  cupidity,  but 
not  arouse  alarm.  But  the  banditti  were  soon  to 
find  out  that  the  hands  which  held  bridles  were  such 
as  had  been  well  accustomed  to  grasp  the  sword. 
The  luggage  on  the  carriage  consisted  of  sabres  and 
carbines;  and  the  travelers  within  it,  save  one, 
were  soldiers  chosen  for  courage  and  strength! 
Gold  had,  indeed,  been  lavished  with  unsparing 
hand  by  the  almost  despairing  mother;  and  new, 
notwithstanding  constitutional  nervousness  Jind 
delicacy  of  frame,  Mrs.  Cleveland  risked  her  own 
life  amidst  clashing  steel  and  flying  bullets  in  order 
to  lure  from  their  secret  fastness,  and  draw  within 
reach  of  the  arm  of  justice,  those  who  in  perilous 
captivity  held  her  only  son! 

What  was  the  result  of  the  conflict  we  shall  hear 
in  the  following  chapter. 


Ml. 

Mr 


VICTORY. 


123 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


VICTORY. 


1 


"Onward,  onward!  now  or  never  must  we  make 
a  struggle  for  freedom!"  exclaimed  Horace.  ''If 
your  strength  fail  you,  Enrico,  lean  upon  me.  This 
is  no  time  for  giving  way  to  weariness;  and  as  for 
hesitation  and  doubt — " 

"The  firing  has  ceased!"  gasped  Enrico;  "we 
know  not  who  are  the  victors." 

"The  right  has  conquered,  be  sure  of  that!"  cried 
Horace,  whose  countenance,  beaming  with  hope 
and  flushed  with  excitement,  presented  a  strong 
contrast  to  that  of  Enrico,  livid  even  to  ghastliness! 
The  young  bandit  in  his  dripping  garments  looked 
more  like  the  corpse  of  a  drowned  man  than  one 
through  whose  veins  the  warm  blood  of  life  was 
coursing. 

"Come  on!"  again  exclaimed  the  impatient 
youth;  and  almost  dragging  his  companion  for- 
ward,  Horace  hurried  on  for  a  few  paces,  and  sud- 
denly confronted — Matteo ! 

Defeat,  disaster,  despair,  were  stamped  on  the 
dark  lineaments  of  the  chieftain,  distinct  as  the 
blood-marks  on  face  and  hand.  It  was  the  wounded 
lion  driven  back  into  the  shelter  of  his  native 
jungle,  who  hears  behind  him  the  bay  of  the  blood- 
hounds, the  shout  of  the  hunters  on  his  track !  Mat- 
teo had  seen  all  his  followers,  save  Marco,  slain  or 
taken,  and  then,  not  till  then,  had  he  dashed  aside 
opposing  weapons  and  plunged  into  the  depths  of 
the  thicket.  He  had  paused  but  once,  and  that  was 
to  reload  a  pistol,  less  to  provide  for  defence  than  to 
assure  himself  that  he  should  never  fall  alive  into 
the  hands  of  his  foes. 
Before  this  desperate  man  stood  his  prisoner,  his 

at 


Ttalis'ti      r»r»r«riQtiir»n 


/ 


"4 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


appantions  roused  in  Matteo  superstitious  dread-  he 
doubted  not  that  in  mortal  flesh  and  blood  he  beheld 
a  traitor  and  an  escaping  hostage,  a  hostage  for  the 
son  of  whose  ignominious  death  he  on  that  verv 
night  had  heard!  ^ 

A  fierce  joy  flashed  in  the  blood-shot  eyes  of  the 
bandit;  he  had  lost  all  beside,  but  a  dying  man's 
vengeance  yet  might  be  his.  Matteo  leveled  his 
pistol  and  fired!  the  report  rang  sharp  through  the 
wood,  a  victim  lay  stretched  on  the  ground,  but 
that  victim  war  not  Horace  Cleveland.  Raphael 
had  reached  the  spot  at  that  crisis  only  in  time  to 
throw  himself  in  front  of  his  friend,  and  receive  in 
his  own  bosom  the  bullet  destined  for  another' 

With  a  wild  cry  Enrico  rushed  forward  and  threw 
himself  on  the  ground  by  his  brother.  Absorbed 
by  one  overpowering  dread,  the  wretched  youn? 
man  was  unconscious  of  all  that  was  passing  around 
him;  he  heard  not,  cared  not  for  the  desperate 
struggle  of  Matteo  with  the  soldiers,  his  wrestling 
for  liberty  and  life  as  a  wild  beast  caught  in  the 
toils,  nor  knew  that  the  struggle  ended  at  last  in  the 
capture  of  the  chief.  Enrico  heard  not,  cared  not 
for  the  sobs  of  delight  with  which  a  mother 
embraced  a  rescued  son,  nor  knew  the  deep  sym- 
pathy with  which  both  Mrs.  Cleveland  and  Horace 
?^?  ^^?^  T^^  Raphael.  Had  an  earthquake 
shaken  the  forest,  Enrico  would  scarcely  have  felt 
It.  His  brother's  head  was  supported  on  his  breast  • 
the  expression  of  the  featurs  was  serene  and  pain' 
less,  the  heavy  eyelids  closed,  and  the  long  dark 
lashes  resting  on  the  colorless  cheek. 

•; Raphael!  my  brother,  look  at  me,  speak  to  me! 
Ihis  IS  not.  It  cannot  be  death!  One  word,  if  it  be 
of  reproach— one  look,  were  it  even  in  anger'  Tell 
me  that  I  have  not  this  night  been  rescued  from 
the  jaws  of  death,  that  I  have  not  been  saved  from 
the  whelming  waters  to  be  plunged  in  darker  depths 
of  wretchedness!" 
The  young  man  sobbed  aloud  in  the  anguish  of 


\ 


VICTORY. 


135 


his  soul.  His  nerves  had  been  completely  unstrung 
by  the  events  of  the  last  few  hours ;  his  mind  was 
crushed  by  the  consciousness  that  it  had  been  his 
guilt  that  had  led  to  the  ruin  of  his  brother. 

"He  bleeds  but  little;  he  may,  he  will  revive!" 
exclaimed  Horace.  "I  will  bring  water!"  and  he 
hurried  away  towards  the  stream.  Briny  drops 
were  fast  falling  on  the  face  of  Raphael,  but  they 
seemed  to  have  no  power  to  arouse  him. 

"O  God,  have  mercy  upon  me!  O  God,  spare  my 
brother:  let  him  not  perish  through  my  sin!  I  will 
submit  to  Thy  will  in  all  things — I  will  not  mur- 
mur— I  will  not  rebel — only  spare  this  one  precious 
life!"  It  was  the  wrestling,  agonizing  prayer 
burstint;-  from  a  broken  and  contrite  heart. 

"See,  his  lips  move!"  exclaimed  Horace,  who  had 
just  sprinkled  water  over  the  face  of  the  dying  man. 

Faint  sounds  came  forth,  soft  and  melodious  still, 
from  those  tuneful  lips  so  soon  to  be  silenced  in 
death ;  even  Enrico  hushed  his  wild  grief  to  listen. 
Low  but  distinct  were  the  words: 

•'Joy  Cometh  —  in  the  morning!  —  see  —  it  is 
brightening  in  the  east — darkness  is  passing  away — 
and  for  ever!" 

"Raphael,  do  you  know  me?"  faltered  Horace,  as 
he  knelt  beside  the  Rossignol,  and  pressed  his  icy 
hand  in  his  own. 

Raphael  did  not  answer  the  question ;  the  spirit 
fluttering  on  the  confines  of  a  world  of  light 
seemed  already  to  feel  the  eternal  sunshine  on  its 
wings!  The  large  dark  eyes  slowly  unclosed,  but 
their  gaze  was  fixed  upwards,  as  if  they  beheld  the 
vision  of  glories  hidden  from  mortal  eyes. 

"It  is  over,"  he  murmured  —  "all  is  over — the 
struggle— the  battle  is  past !  More  than  conqueror- 
through  Him— only  through  Him  who  loved  me! 
Ah,  Marino  —  thou  art  there  to  welcome  me,  the 
palm  in  thy  hand  — the  glory  round  thy  brow.  I 
knew  our  parting  would  not  be  for  long!    See  the 

QtlOTAl    fooAO  V\eityAiryrr  ffr\fn    f^■\t%   nl^tlAe. *-t.  ...•.   ..>•_  =?™«.i4. 


19$ 


THE  ROBBERS'  CAVE. 


^ofde^n '4^^  receive  me~light  h  streaming  from  the 
goiaen  gate.     Oh,  stay  me  not— I  must  ffo»" 

«„?^^P^f  ^^  turned  his  eyes  upon  his  brother  with  a 
sudden  look  of  joyful  recognition. 
^Enrico,  saved!"  he  exlaimed. 
saved'to  be"-!^'  ^'°"'  destruction  of  body  and  soul, 

m^ffh^iTJ^'''''^'i  '^  '''J^^'i'^Sr  cried  the  dying 
man  the  radiance  of  unearthly  rapture  lighting  uo 

Wess'tee'^Tr'^   ':''''  ^y^°^  ^  thanf  S"ef~? 

tLT,  rT^J°''  5^'*  S^^^^  °^«  "ly  heart's  desire 

W«rt  r"  1,^'*    }^^^\  "^y  P^^y^^    for    my  brother ' 

Hark!  -he  exclaimed,  suddenly,  "do  you  not  hear  the 

^lumph.  The  angels  are  beckoning  me  upwards- 
why  cannot  I  nse  and  join  them!  He  is  there-mv 
Leader -my  King!     I  have  waited    for  Him^ 

aissolving— the  clouds  are  melting  into  lieht— the 
chain  that  bound  me  to  the  earth  is  loosenfug-Se 

.;n5«i^^f  ''^y^?'^^  his  eyes.  The  martyr-spirit  had 
SoflUTbXd^f'  ^^^^^^  "P--^''  ^--^  a 

A  ******  • 

A  full  pardon  for  Enrico  was  ere  long  procured 
from  the  king  of  Naples.  It  was  granted  oa7tW  on 
acconnt  of  the  services  of  his  fathe^partlyTecLse 

^u^hVr"''  P^"'^^"^^  °^  the  Clevelands.  who  thus 
^yf^l''  repay  some  portion  of  the  deep  debt 
which  they  owed  his  brother  ^ 

The  death  of  Raphael  Goldoni  had  effected  more 
than  his  life.     His  light,  which  for  a  brief  space  hid 
shone  on  earth  to  the  glory  of  his  heavenly  Father 
had  not  been   extinguished  in  darkness.^  Horace 


VICTORY. 


lij 


and  Enrico  had  seen  his  example  <  asting  a  pure 
though  feeble  radiance  in  the  deet  gloom  of  the 
robbers'  cave;  but  it  had  a  stronger,  more  abiding 
influence  upon  them  when  they  thought  of  him  as 
one  of  the  starry  host,  raised  to  glitter  for  ever  in 
the  cloudless  heaven  above!  Raphael  had  longed 
to  win  souls  to  Christ,  and  had  sought  them  at 
the  greatest  personal  risk,  in  the  darkest  haunt  of 
evil.  For  such  is  the  crown  reserved,  for  such  is 
the  promise  given, 

'*  T/iejy  that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of 
ike  firmament;  and  they  that  turn  many  to  righteous- 
ness as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever/*' 


